


Three Years and an Eternity

by Selador



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Adam Escapes Hell, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Murder, Neurodiversity, Not Canon Compliant, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Torture, Trauma, Vessel Consent Issues, Vessels, adam has his mom's family, and earlier ain't completely safe either, definitely ignoring almost everything post season 5 of supernatural, which is also canon typical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-07-20 22:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador/pseuds/Selador
Summary: Adam Milligan was found three years after his disappearance wandering down the I-696 in Michigan. The fact that his nephew was alive would be a miracle to a man more religious than Aaron Hotchner, who couldn't see what he saw everyday and come out of it believing in any sort of higher power.Of course, Adam Milligan's return had nothing to do with a miracle.(a redux of "The Open Wound")





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A redux of my old fic, [The Open Wound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714635), which I always did want to get back to and by the time did, I wanted to change so much I scrapped pretty much everything and started over. I kept only like the first page or two. Everything else is new content. 
> 
> I will be posting an update on the original fic with a link to here so as to let anyone following that fic still that they should check this one out.
> 
> I've got a bit more written for this fic, so the next chapter won't be too long of a wait.

Aaron Hotchner meticulously filed every case they had, except one. One particular case—long gone cold—he kept on his desk. It was almost always buried under other files, and he could even manage to go several weeks without looking at it.

But every so often—almost as often as he stayed at the office past midnight, which was too often—he would open up the file and examine its contents. For anything that might have slipped his notice before. For three years, he kept that file on his desk, obscured by other more pressing and recent cases, but always in reach. Always in mind. And for three years, he found nothing.

No clue, no profile, nothing in the photographs of the blood and gore left behind that gave him any sort of signal of where to look next.

After three years, Adam Milligan was found wandering I-696 in Michigan, and the case was cracked open with the missing second victim found.

…

Aaron Hotchner was present for Adam Milligan’s birth. Kate had wanted her sister there, and Haley had wanted him there, and so—he was there.

He handled the arrangements at Kate’s house to make sure everything was ready for her and her baby. He assured her friends and neighbors that she and the baby were doing well. He took care of things for Kate, so Haley could be there for her sister while she was giving birth to a child at age nineteen without naming the father and while she was still establishing her nursing career. Aaron couldn’t help but wonder at her decisions, but said nothing more after Kate had tersely thanked him for his offer for financial assistance for whatever option she chose after she had revealed her pregnancy to them.

In their file, it described Kate as white, thirty-nine years old, and blond. Her body was found in a crypt in the local cemetery; she had been physically subdued and held down while pieces of her were ripped out by what were confirmed to have been human teeth. She had been eaten alive. Another note in the file: the crypt across from Kate’s had blood in it, blood that matched Adam Milligan. But his body was nowhere to be found.

Not in the files—though they lived in different states, Haley and Kate called each other every few days. Also not in the files—Kate may have struggled with single parenthood, her education, and then career, but she would thrive. Aaron and Haley had been to her beautiful house in Minnesota for Hanukkah the previous winter. Adam Milligan was to return to his first year at college, and Aaron was always struck by how open, responsible, hard-working, and brilliant Adam was.

Adam Milligan could have gone to any university he wanted, but hadn’t wanted to go too far away from home. Who had, when his mother had been reported missing, drove the six hours from the University of Wisconsin to Windom, Minnesota, only to disappear like his mother at some point after he had arrived in Windom. Adam Milligan was pre-med, and following in his mother’s footsteps.

Adam Milligan, whose blood was found in a crypt across from his mother’s body—that was in the files. Not—Aaron’s sister-in-law, for these past twelve years, but he had known her since she was eleven, when he and Haley had started dating.

And then he got a phone call. He was in his office, going through paperwork. The file was out of sight, and even out of mind.

“Hotchner,” he answered.

He didn’t expect—“Hello, Agent Hotchner. This is Highway Patrol of Wayne County in Michigan, Officer Tony Jenkins. We picked up a young man we’ve identified as Adam Milligan from where he was walking down the I-696. We brought him to the station and ran his name, and saw your name attached to his case file.”

After three years, the chances of a kidnap victim still being alive were minute. Reid would be able to tell him the exact statistics. “He’s alive?”

“Yes. There was blood on him, but it didn’t seem like his own. We didn’t see any obvious wounds, but he’s just gone into the emergency care unit. We’ll know more in a little bit.”

“What hospital?” Aaron demanded brusquely, already online to request the jet as soon as possible to Detroit, Michigan. He hesitated for a moment before clicking the _Submit_ button. Involving the team on this would inevitably make a spectacle of his family life; they would tear Adam’s privacy to shreds, and Aaron’s would be collateral damage.

He clicked it. Aaron’s privacy from his team meat only so much, after all.

Adam was alive. Adam was alive, after three years of captivity.

Aaron needed his team.

…

“I should be there,” Haley told him again.

“It would be dangerous with the baby,” Aaron reminded her. “I’ll be there. He won’t be alone.”

“But will you be there as his uncle or as a profiler?” Haley demanded. “He needs _family,_ Aaron.”

“My team is going with me. Jason can take lead, and they’ll be the profilers on the case. It would be better that I step back, anyway,” Aaron reassured. “I’ll bring him home as soon as I can.”

“And to find out who killed Kate,” Haley added. She looked down, hesitation written on her face. “Do you think Adam…? Do you think he…?” Killed his captor, she was struggling to say. While Aaron knew that almost anyone could be driven to the point of murder if given the right set of circumstances, he also found it difficult to imagine the boy he knew committing murder, even if it would be considered in defense and justified.

“I don’t know, Haley. I hope not.” But he might have. Likely did. They would both need to be prepared for that.

Haley continued to stare at her swollen feet. “If the same people who killed Kate took him,” she began. “And have had him all this time... Why wouldn’t they kill him?”

A good question. Cannibals who killed one person in a matter of days would not hold the second for years. Nor would that second victim be in one piece. Officer Jenkins had forwarded the results of the hospital’s tests to both Aaron and JJ as requested. From his quick look at it, Adam was surprisingly physically whole and intact, which would indicate he was not held captive by the same cannibals who killed Kate.

“It would be unlikely,” Aaron said, “but the people who killed Kate and the people who kidnapped Adam could be entirely separate from each other. The odds that two unrelated unsubs would cross paths like that, however...”

Haley frowned. “But Adam’s blood was there, where Kate’s body was. Wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Aaron said. “Hopefully, Adam will be able to shed some light onto the matter. And my team will piece together the rest.”

Haley nodded, exhausted. “Tell Jason I said hello.”

“I will,” Aaron said, leaning onto the bed to kiss her. “I’ll let you know when I get there.”

“Give Adam my love,” Haley said, gripping his suit jacket. “And bring him _home._ ”

...

His team filed into the conference room, coffees in hand, chatter and jokes exchanged with smiles. Aaron tried to relax; he may be the victim’s family in this case, but he was still the team’s leader.

“You alright, Hotch?” Morgan asked. He didn’t relax fast enough.

“If we’re all settled,” Aaron began, “we’ll get into the case.” Everyone, save for Jason, glanced towards JJ. She had agreed to put together the presentation on their known facts and have Aaron debrief the team, though the team didn’t know that.

“This is Kate Milligan and her son, Adam Milligan,” Aaron said. “Three years ago, Kate Milligan went missing from her home in Windom, Minnesota. There was blood and hair found in her bedroom, and signs that the unsubs broke into her house.” He clicked to the next slide. The pictures showed the disarray of her house; how she had clearly knocked items over to prevent a pursuer from catching up and how her bedroom door was locked and a dresser dragged in front of it. The blood and hair left behind, her efforts to protect herself ultimately futile.

“Kate Milligan was dragged out of her house through the ventilation, which is how the unsub got into her locked room,” Aaron announced. “Her body was found a few days later in a crypt in Windom’s cemetery.” When he moved to the next slides, Garcia made a small noise of upset, and looked away with a small, “Tell me when it’s over!”

Ignoring her, he continued, “Investigations at that time, which included myself, concluded that she had been kept alive for several days, stuck in a stone tomb, while the unsubs tore off pieces of her flesh.”

“What were they doing with the flesh?” Reid asked, examining the photos in file before him. “Are those bite marks?”

“Ah, cannibals. My favorite,” Garcia added, back still facing the slides, with a stressed giggle.

“We believed they were consuming it,” Aaron confirmed. On the next slide, he had the empty tomb across from Kate’s.

“We’re good now, baby girl,” Morgan murmured to Garcia, who turned back around relieved.

“Adam Milligan has been missing for three years. When he was informed by local authorities that his mother was missing and likely abducted, he came back to Windom for three days and subsequently also disappeared. This tomb here, across from the one Kate was found in, had blood in it identified as Adam’s.”

There was a question written starkly on everyone’s faces. _What was Hotch’s personal involvement in this case?_ They were all waiting, as it was, for the inevitable sucker punch.

“This is where things become more complicated,” Aaron said. “Detective Joe Barton who led the investigation on Kate’s disappearance, disappeared himself at the same time Adam did. Joe Barton’s body was later found in the crypt along with Kate, in a similar state as she was, but his time of death was ruled as several days before Kate’s. He was also found on the floor, not in a tomb.” Barton’s death had appeared to be much swifter than Kate’s; the unsubs had not bothered to entomb him in order to extend his suffering by days. That was not a certain fact, however, and Aaron would not predisposition his team in such a way.

“And you were called in by the locals after one of their own detectives went missing?” Elle stated more than asked.

“We invited ourselves,” Aaron said. “I was aware of the situation shortly after Adam went missing, however. Kate was my sister-in-law.” Eyebrows raise and faces droop with sympathy. “Which is why I will be stepping out of this investigation. I’ll be flying to Detroit with all of you as usual, but it may be better to think of me as the victim’s family, rather than a profiler for this case.”

Garcia gasped and said, “Oh, no. Hotch, I’m so sorry.”

“There’s more,” said Aaron. Garcia’s sympathy was appreciated, but there was a lot to go through. “Before Adam’s and Barton’s disappearances, a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala was seen in Windom.” Morgan, Elle, and Reid all leaned forward; they know what that meant.

“The Winchesters’ profile doesn’t indicate cannibalism,” Morgan said.

“Not entirely true. There was that woman who was completely exsanguinated, and the leading theory is that Sam Winchester _drank_ her blood,” Elle commented, nose scrunched up in distaste.

“No arrests were ever made for Kate’s and Barton’s deaths,” Aaron said. “Nor did we ever come up with any likely suspects.”

“Wait,” JJ said, “what happened to Adam?”

“The reason why we are taking this case,” Aaron said, “is because Adam Milligan was found yesterday, walking down the I-696 in Michigan.” The photos display Adam’s physical state in the hospital; bruised, pale, lacerations decorating his arms and torso, but mercifully whole and alive.

“Holy shit,” Morgan said, “you found him alive?”

“The chances of finding a victim alive after three years is infinitesimal,” Reid said. “Though long-term captivity of male teenagers is already highly unusual. Especially since Adam wasn’t a minor.”

“The rather abrupt and severe change in MO indicates two separate unsubs,” Jason added. “Or groups of unsubs, as it might be.”

“We suspected that there were at least two unsubs that cornered Kate inside her house,” Aaron said. “One who backed her into her bedroom, and the other who snuck up through the ventilation.”

“They must be quite strong,” Elle said, “to subdue and drag a fit, healthy woman through ventilation shafts.” She frowned. “She wasn’t a short woman, either.”

“The Winchesters don’t do long-term captivity,” Morgan said. “I don’t think they’ve ever kept anyone longer than a night. And they certainly don’t let them get away alive.”

The quiet shuffling of paper overtook the room, as they all considered the Winchesters’ frankly embarrassing profile, a patchwork as abnormally put together as Frankenstein’s monster, which was meant to connect the wide variety of crimes the Winchesters had committed.

“There’s a lot to discuss,” Aaron said. “I’ll need to be questioned, both as a previous investigator on the case, and as a family member. Which we will on the jet. Wheels up in twenty.”

…

“Were the Winchesters sighted at all in the area Adam was found?” Reid asked, staring down at the file with a great deal of concentration once the jet had taken off. “There’s no indication in the Winchesters’ behavior that they have a home base.”

“They’re seen in North Dakota a lot,” Elle noted. “But they could be passing through it. And that would make it less likely that it was the Winchesters who took Adam.”

“We should interview you,” Jason noted, quietly, but everyone still falls silent. “I take it Haley won’t be there?”

Aaron shook his head. “It’s not safe for the baby. It’s part of the reason why I need to be family right now.”

“Hotch,” Reid said. “This isn’t right. It says in your notes that you didn’t know Kate was missing until Adam went missing too?”

“That’s correct,” Aaron confirmed, trying not to show how the guilt still ate him alive. “Haley spoke to her sister often, but not hearing from her for a few days wasn’t unusual. And as an immediate adult family member and well-known to the locals, Adam was informed first. For an unknown reason, he decided to head to Windom alone, without alerting either myself or Haley to the events.”

“But three days passed between his return and disappearance,” Reid said. “Why wouldn’t he call his federal agent uncle who tracks down murderers for a living about that? Did he contact you at all?”

Aaron could predict where Reid planned on going about this, and his fingers tense against the arm rest. “No. He did not.”

Eyes narrowing, Reid asked, eyes narrowed in concentration, “Are you sure you were as close to him as you think?”

“Reid,” JJ admonished softly.

“It’s fine,” Aaron reassured quickly, as Reid realized his faux pas and began to stammer and apologize. “Ask me what you need to. Perhaps I wasn’t as close to Adam as I thought I was, or that I should have been,” he said. “But he was close to Haley. If nothing else, he would have called her. I have never been able to determine why he didn’t.” Aaron looked down to his hands momentarily, before forcing himself to look back up. Too late. Everyone noticed. “I have thought about that question a lot, these past years. So has Haley.”

“We’ll need to talk to Haley,” said Jason, after a rather suffocating silence fell over the group. “I know she was interviewed before, but we might be able to shed new light on it, with whatever Adam gives us.”

“She’ll agree. Just let us know when.”

The team settled, and Aaron prepared himself mentally for a cross-examination. The reassurance was what they needed for permission. Now, they wouldn’t hold back. “Who’s Adam’s father?” Elle asked. “I don’t see a father listed on his birth certificate.”

“We don’t know,” Aaron said. “Kate became pregnant with Adam when she was nineteen. She’s never disclosed his identity to either of us. She never had any interest in reaching out to the father, and she did confirm he was not a local and was no longer in town at the initial announcement.”

“Could it be the father?” Morgan asked. “Maybe not the ones who took Kate, but the one who might have rescued Adam from the ones who killed his mother?”

“If it was a rescue,” Gideon commented lightly.

Aaron tilted his head slightly. “That’s possible.”

“Based on these interviews, there weren’t other outstanding suspects for Kate and Adam. Or Barton,” Reid noted. “The Milligans and Barton were well-liked in the community. Maybe the unsub was jealous? There are cultures where if you consume the heart of an animal--individual, in this case--you receive that individual’s powers. It’s also a way to obtain revenge on your enemy.”

“That could be the father, too,” Morgan said. “Seeking revenge on a woman who spurned him, kept his son a secret from him?”

“Did they eat the hearts?” Elle asked, peering at the more gruesome photos in the file.

“They did,” Reid said, “they also ate the liver, pancreas, and in Kate’s case her… uterus.”

“Oh, god, I didn’t need to hear that,” Garcia said over the laptop, blinking onto the screen. “I can’t imagine a worse time to come into a conversation than that. I think I might be sick.”

“If it helps, it looks like the uterus was removed post-mortem,” Reid added.

Garcia shuddered. “Thanks for the attempt, but it really doesn’t help.”

“Sorry, Garcia,” Reid apologized, sheepishly.

“Anyway, my lovelies, your Tech Goddess has come to deliver you from the darkness of ignorance,” she pushed onward. “Kate Milligan had a burner phone in her bedroom, and she was trying to make a call on it before she got taken.”

“We found the burner phone before,” Aaron said. “Did you find something else on it? The only number on it was disconnected.”

“It was, and I can’t get anything from a disconnected line,” Garcia confirmed. “But I decided to Google the number because, what the heck? And Hotch, it popped up on a couple of those monster forums. The ones where people discuss the supernatural like it’s real.”

“What?” Aaron said.

“Did you know that Kate believed in the paranormal?” Jason asked beside him.

“No,” Aaron said. “I did not.”

Morgan leaned forward so he was in Garcia’s line of sight. “Baby girl, do any of those forums mention where that number used to connect to?”

“No, it’s annoying really, the people who mention the phone number all seem _really_ cautious about saying anything else about it. Just that if you’re in a situation, to call that number for help. I mean, seems hinky as fuck. Oh, uh, sorry, boss.”

“When it comes to the subjects of delusions, the supernatural isn’t uncommon,” Reid said. “Are we sure that these websites _are_ about the supernatural? They’re not ruses for anything else?”  
  
“Aren’t the Winchesters’ psychoses focused specifically on the supernatural?” asked JJ, expression pinched with concern.

Silence. “Yes,” Hotch said. “They are.”

“You think Kate got the phone from the Winchesters?” Morgan asked. “How? Why?”

“ _When_ ,” Elle added. “And why didn’t they take her then?”

A prickly silence fell over the jet. “We’ll figure it out, Aaron,” Jason said. “We’re rather good at that.”

…

“Aaron,” Jason asked as they depart the jet. “Who do you think your nephew will react best to?”

Aaron had already considered this. “Reid,” who perked up at his name. “Adam may view him as a peer. I’ll be present to assist and facilitate as much as possible as a well-known authority figure. Between the two of us, we should be able get him to talk to us.”

“Very well,” Jason said. “The rest of us will head to the police station to set up. I’d like to make sure we get a handle on the media. If the Winchesters are involved, I’d rather keep this quiet and control if and when we release any information. Elle, Morgan, if you two would speak to the officers who brought Adam in and go to the site where he was found? I’ll interview friends of the Milligans and Bartons with JJ.”

“Sounds good to me,” Morgan said, while Elle nodded.

When they arrived at the hospital, Reid flashed his FBI badge while Aaron signed in as family. They get directions to Adam’s room, and a doctor met them there.

“Aaron Hotchner? You’re Adam Milligan’s uncle?” A doctor of short stature, whose name tag read as _Matthew Kaplan, MD_ , asked.

“Yes. Are you the physician treating him?”

“I’m the neurologist,” he said. “Adam’s over eighteen, but he’s been deemed to require a guardian to assist him in medical decisions. Are you able and willing to take on those duties so I can disclose his medical information to you?”  
  
“Of course. Where’s the paperwork?”

“Come with me, we’ll get them sorted.” His eyes slid over to Reid. “Who’s this?”

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s my colleague at the FBI and he’s here to ask Adam some questions. We’re part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Questions about what?”

“We’re investigating Adam’s disappearance,” Reid informed him. He glanced towards Aaron, he gave him a nod. “I’ll just go in and keep him company until you arrive.” Without any further words, he head in.

“He’s young to be a doctor,” commented Kaplan on their way to his office. “He’s also an agent?”

“Yes. Supervisory Special Agent.”

“Huh. Good for him.”

…

The paperwork was tedious, but Aaron was used to tedious paperwork. When they’ve reached the end, the doctor made him a copy and sat back down.

“His other test results are in there. For a young man who was missing for three years, he’s surprisingly healthy, all things considered. Just make sure he eats healthy, rounded meals, and he eats plenty. No skipping meals. He’s not quite deficient in anything, but he’s worryingly low on almost everything.”

Aaron took the proffered papers and skimmed through them. The notes by each result said nearly identical statements: “Within normal parameters, but low. Please see attached list of nutrient-rich foods and supplements and re-test in a few weeks.”

“Would results like this indicate a lack of food?”

“It’s likely, yes. No signs of starvation, though. His nails, hair, and teeth all look healthy. He’s a decent weight. And he’s been eating everything we’ve given him.” Doctor Kaplan tapped his pen against his desk. “There was blood under his fingernails. A lot of it. We sent the samples to your Communications Specialist.”

“I see. Thank you,” Aaron said. He steeled himself before asking, “I take it that because you’re talking to me, there are some neurological issues going on with Adam?”

Kaplan sighed. “There is very little physical head trauma going on. Nothing that indicates any head injuries.”

 _Then why are you talking to me?_ Aaron wondered, frowning.

“However, his brain shows… abnormal readings. You said you’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit?”

“Correct.”

“So you understand what I mean when I say that there are structural differences in brains?”

Aaron didn’t like where this was going. “I understand that MRIs of serial killers show noticeably different structures and brain activity.”

Kaplan peered at him. “ _Did_ Adam show any unusual behaviors prior to his kidnapping?”

“He did not. I’m aware my word as a family member means little, but the nature of my job does make me more paranoid than most. I’m confident I would have seen the signs if he showed signs of any neurodivergence.”

A confidence that Aaron could not be confident in. It required a frank and honest analysis on his own blind spots. Prior to Kate’s disappearance, Adam did not demonstrate any of the usual warning signs. He was actively engaged in school, sports, and social activities. The small community of Windom loved Kate and Adam, and Aaron had met Adam’s boyfriend and many of his friends during the holidays before his disappearance.

He didn’t believe that, as much as Aaron tried not to profile his own teammates and family members, it was a skill he ever really turned _off_. If Adam was up to something sinister, Aaron would have realized.

There lied niggling doubts. The overstated normalcy and well-cultivated community relationships could always be a ploy of a charismatic sociopath. It wouldn’t be difficult for a boy in a rural town to hide any other signs. He could have been torturing animals out in the woods, and Kate never would have known.

But the rest of the events didn’t support that line of thinking. Adam was confirmed to have attended his classes until after Kate disappeared. He told several friends in person when he received the news, and that he was driving out for Windom immediately. His boyfriend said he had given him some snacks and coffee to make it through the drive as fast as possible. He and a couple other friends had offered to go with him, but Adam had reassured them that he sure it was all going to be fine.

“And if I need help,” Adam’s boyfriend swore he said before he left, word for word, “my uncle works for the FBI. I’ll give him a call.”

He hadn’t. He said he would, but he hadn’t.

Adam’s behavior was normal and stable until he returned to Windom. He hadn’t called his friends when he got there. They had called him, and they noted that he came off a little strange when they had. A little less grief-stricken than they expected from a momma’s boy. Not as stressed, a little too dismissive. His friends had written it off as overcompensation, a bravado, and still believed that during the interviews.

It was certainly possible, but it was another tick in the mounting evidence that something had happened as soon as Adam returned to Windom. Something they hadn’t found before, and they need to find now. An separate event or trigger from his mother’s disappearance, one that would prevent him from calling Aaron for help.

Perhaps now Aaron will finally get his answers.

The neurologist nodded in acceptance. “Perhaps it’s something that happened during his captivity. Stress and trauma do impact brain development, but… I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

Aaron examined the MRI scans. Reid was a fortunate choice to bring with him; no one else on the team would do better analyzing the scans than him. “What should I expect from Adam, behavior-wise?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three long years, Aaron spoke to Adam for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember to mind the tags
> 
> i'm so glad people are excited about this <3 y'all are great

Reid was entertaining Adam with a magic trick, and what was probably the full-length explanation of the history of sleight-of-hand. “Magic tricks are really an exploitation of human attention, which is why it’s such a fascinating area of psychological study. I can show a person a card, then keep track of it without them even noticing, all because of how our brains naturally track movement and where we focus our attention. Someone who knows the tricks would know where to direct their attention, but so would someone who’s attention naturally falls elsewhere.”

Neither of them noticed him standing by the doorway. Reid had his back to him, and Adam’s attention was focused solidly on Reid’s words. For the first time in three years, Aaron took in the sight of his nephew in person.

He looked good.

Which was far more unsettling and bizarre than if Adam had been broken and bleeding.

The neurologist and the other doctor’s notes weren’t wrong. Adam’s appearance gave every indication of health. He certainly wouldn’t be the poster boy for good nutrition any time soon, but he showed none of the usual signs of starvation. He barely looked as if he’d lost weight.

If it weren’t for the unnerving expression on his face, underneath the focus and mild interest in Reid’s words, Aaron wouldn’t see any hint of what had happened to him.

What had happened to him while he was captive? If the torture wasn’t physical, and he was fed enough to, if not thrive, sustain himself, what was done? What did they do to Adam?

“Reid,” Aaron greeted, and Reid fell silent and turned around to give him a quick grin while Adam tensed. “Adam?” he asked, walking closer. Adam looked over to him. He stared at Aaron’s face. “Do you recognize me?” He smiled lightly. They were not yet sure how much of Adam’s memory was intact; he’d barely spoken to the cops or the hospital staff. “Adam? It’s your Uncle Aaron--”

He shuddered, tearing his gaze away, pulling his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. His heart monitor went haywire, the beeping increasing at a rapid and alarming rate.

“Adam?” Reid said, eyes flickering between them. Aaron considered leaving the room, but it was an unusual reaction to Aaron’s presence. He’d like an explanation for it. Otherwise, he realized, ice pricking down his arms, Aaron might appear implicated in Adam’s disappearance. “Adam, what’s wrong?” Reid tried again, getting up to lean closer to him.

Adam muttered something, too quiet for Aaron to hear, but Reid looked back at him quickly, surprised. “I promise you, Adam, he’s really there. Aaron’s really there.”

 _Hallucinations?_ Aaron wondered. His jaw tenses at the thought of Adam hallucinating his form previously, futilely hoping that Aaron would rescue him. Rescue him from whatever Hell he had been trapped in, which Aaron never succeeded in doing in the end anyway.

“How do you know?” Adam snapped.

“He came here with me,” Reid soothed. “He’s my boss. We both work for the Behavioral Analyst Unit at the FBI.”

Adam blinked, glancing at Aaron again. “He’s your… boss?”

“Yeah. He’s the Unit Chief for the Behavioral Analysis Unit,” Reid explained. “So he’s my boss.”

“Oh,” said Adam. “Does he suck as a boss?”

Aaron chuckled and said, to very pointedly interrupt and spare Reid of responding, “I hope not.”

“When did you…?” Adam trailed off. He was relaxing, uncurling on the bed slightly.

“Little more than half a year ago. I stepped in for the former Unit Chief when he had to take some leave,” Aaron answered, walking forward to join Reid at the chairs.

“Oh,” Adam said. The heart rate monitor eased back into a slow and normal rhythm. “That’s awesome.”

“Thank you,” Aaron said, heartfully, taking the seat next to Reid. “Haley sends her love.”

Adam tried to smile, but didn’t manage it, exactly. It had obviously been a long time since he smiled. He reached a hand out towards Aaron, who didn’t hesitate to grab it. Adam held on painfully tight, but Aaron let him.

His breathing begins to become irregular, eyes shutting tight as tears leak out of them. “I… I didn’t think…” Hitching gasps interrupt him. “I never thought I’d see…” Sobbing now, Adam lurched towards Aaron, who got up to meet him in a hug. His head ended up bumping into Aaron’s rib cage, arms grasping around his waist too tightly and holding himself in an awkward position, leaving Aaron to gently rearrange them so they could at least both be sitting somewhat comfortably. The repositioning gave him a moment with his expression out of Reid’s unforgetting line of sight to appreciate that Adam was wonderfully, miraculously alive.

When they were both seated side by side, Reid came closer awkwardly, trying to figure out if he should leave to give Aaron privacy or stay to question and profile Adam.

He met Aaron’s gaze, searching for dismissal or approval. Aaron gave him a nod, and Reid settled back into the chair, much less twitchy than before.

“Adam,” Reid said gently. More gently than Aaron’s heard him use before. He’d need to talk to Reid and let him know that he really can treat this like any other case. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Good. Leave Aaron out of it. He would, obviously, ask his own questions, but better to position him with Adam for now.

Adam sniffled into Aaron’s shoulder. “Sure,” he muttered.

Reid glanced at Aaron’s face, once more for approval, before diving in. “There’s a lot we need to know, but first off: are the people who held you captive still alive?”

Adam shook his head, face still buried in Aaron’s shoulder. No hesitation. A deep-seated anxiety over his family slipped away.

“Okay. Thank you for letting me know. We have to ascertain what the current risk level is to your safety, and that helps us a lot,” Reid said. “What were your captors’ names?”

Adam swallowed. “Michael,” he said, “and Lucifer.”

Aaron and Reid exchanged a look. Those were undoubtedly pseudonyms. Pseudonyms that indicated grandiose religious delusions at that.

“Is that what they called themselves?” Reid asked. “Did you ever hear what their real names might have been?”

Adam shook his head. They waited, but he didn’t say anything.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Reid said. This would not be the most gentle of approaches to retrieve the information they need most. Aaron thought about his promise to Haley and didn’t interrupt. He must let his team do their jobs. “Do you remember what they look like?”

A burst of air against his shoulder and a sound that might have been a laugh, in another life. Adam said nothing.

Reid pursed his lips, sending a look asking for help from Aaron.

“Do you know where we could find their bodies?” Aaron asked Adam.

Adam’s weight relaxed a bit more into Aaron, face still not quite visible but no longer pressed as hard into him.

“No, I don’t,” Adam said, and he was lying.

“Would it be near where you were found?” Reid asked.

Adam shrugged. Aaron took a risk to pull away from Adam, so they could better see his face and recognize his tells, but Adam tightened his grip and refused to let go.

Ah, the problem of interviewing your family. Adam _knew_ what he wanted and how not to give it to him.

“Adam,” Aaron said. “We need to know what happened. You’re not in trouble. You can tell us what happened,” and still Aaron was surprised when Adam pulled away roughly.

“They’re dead. Okay? They’re dead because _I killed them_ ,” Adam snapped. His shoulders tensed up to his neck, and the beeping from the heart rate monitor picked up its pace. “You won’t be able to find their bodies because _they aren’t there._ ”

“Do you not… remember where the bodies are…?” Reid asked leadingly, trying to draw from Adam what he meant.

Adam shook his head, far more wildly than before. “There aren’t any bodies!”

“But you said you killed them?” Aaron said as gently as possible. A bit uncomfortable, he added, “There aren’t a lot of methods of disposal that wouldn’t leave a body behind,” and most of those would not be done unintentionally. Perhaps, if there was a fire, or the bodies were left in the woods for animals to pick at, but both of those would leave bones.

“There _aren’t any bodies_ ,” Adam repeated through gritted teeth, looking frustrated. “Michael wanted mine,” and Aaron’s breath caught, the heat of anger mixing poorly with the ice of horror, “but I kicked him out and he--he doesn’t have his own body. Neither does Lucifer.”

Aaron’s mouth opened a little bit, but no sound comes out. Processing that kind of statement… he had to think of Adam as any other victim. If he could. ‘Michael wanted Adam’s body’ indicated that Michael raped Adam. Or perhaps he had wanted to, but hadn’t been able. Perhaps a condition for his psychosis was not met. But if that were the case, he never would have kept Adam alive.

As much as he would like any other alternative, Aaron had to acknowledge that his nephew was raped.

He would have to ask the nurse if they performed a rape kit, and if not, ask them to. But it had already been longer than seventy-two hours since Adam was found, and they did not yet know how long he had been wandering after he had escaped his captors. There should still be physical marks, but his medical records hadn’t noted any suspicious marks.

So the captivity focused on psychological torture and manipulation. To have survived three years, Adam must have well and truly convinced his captors that he was malleable and worth keeping around. What changed that created an opportunity for escape?

And what did Adam mean by ‘he kicked him out’? Or even more confusingly, that ‘Michael and Lucifer don’t have their own bodies’?

“Doesn’t have his own body?” asked Reid, because that phrasing was more than unusual. He doubted Reid had ever heard of such a thing.

“What do you mean by that?” Aaron asked, much too quickly after Reid’s. He needed to give Adam time to answer their questions. They couldn’t overwhelm him. It would stop the questioning in its tracks, and they were already risking retraumatizing him with this approach. They needed answers, but they couldn’t be cruel.

Adam kept shaking his head. Too late. Aaron messed up.

“Adam, please,” Aaron whispered. “We need to know what happened.”

“I can’t--I can’t--” said Adam. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’m _not--”_

“Adam, it’s okay,” said Reid. “It’s common for victims to learn to believe in their captor’s delusions when the right elements are in play. It’s really a coping mechanism we employ for survival. If you hadn’t, you probably wouldn’t have survived these past three years.”

Adam stopped shaking his head, staring straight at Reid. “What?”

Aaron breathed in a little bit. Learning to share the delusions of his captors could have been a key element to Adam’s survival, if these men really believed themselves to be archangels, like their names suggested.

“You said the men who captured you called themselves Michael and Lucifer?” Reid asked. At Adam’s tentative nod, he continued, “Because our society is so entrenched with religious stories and symbology, religious delusions are unsurprisingly common. They are most often coupled with higher levels of grandiosity, which undoubtedly would apply to men who name themselves after two archangels. Especially with one of them claiming the Devil’s name.”

Adam looked slightly perplexed. This did not deter Reid. Confused was a great deal better than distressed, so Aaron saw no reason to put a stop to Reid’s lengthy explanation.

“You see, people who are kidnapped by delusional unsubs will have to learn quickly to play into their captor’s delusions. If the fantasy is broken, the unsub will often become violent, so going along with the fantasy is often necessary to the victim’s survival. It’s something we’re taught as FBI agents, too, if we end up captured, so we survive long enough to be rescued.”

“Oh,” Adam said, frowning. “So you’re saying… that I’m delusional?”

Aaron mouth tightened, while Reid said, “I’m saying that you’ve been through a lot, and you did what you needed to survive. And it _worked_ , Adam. You survived, and you’re here right now, and you can see your family again.” Reid smiled. “What you managed to accomplish is a statistical aberration.” Not the way Aaron would tell a young man in his early twenties that what he had accomplished so rare that everyone had assumed him dead, but it is Reid. “You should be proud.”

“Thank you,” Adam said absently, confusion still creasing his forehead.

They gave him a few moments to digest Reid’s words, knowing he’d start the conversation again. And sure enough, “You think I’m delusional. That… Michael and Lucifer were so crazy that they gave their crazy to me.”

“We’re not saying that,” Aaron cut in. “Reid is letting you know that it’s _okay_ to be confused. We’re not going to judge you for what you did to survive.” Not even a lie, for the most part. As family, Aaron wouldn’t judge Adam for what he did to survive. Murder in self-defense, as he’d already claimed to have done, should be easy enough for Aaron to deal with legally. But there was always stipulations, circumstances that changed the perspective of what actions were done willingly or not. Adam was nineteen when he disappeared, and was twenty-two now. If he were forced to commit any crimes while kidnapped, Aaron dreaded a longer legal battle for Adam’s freedom. And sanity.

And if Adam had anything more to do with any crime… the choices Aaron would have to make could destroy his marriage with Haley. Would destroy his marriage. Aaron already what he would choose, if Adam proved himself to be dangerous.

Adam didn’t seem as if he’d become a cold-blooded killer, but Aaron knew that he was biased. He’d have to listen to what the team determined.

“Monsters ate my mom,” Adam burst out. _Monsters?_ Not a surprising term to use for cannibals, but unusual enough to be noteworthy nonetheless. “And they--they killed me,” he continued. Aaron felt his expression changing and schooled it quickly. “I was _dead_ , but they--they wouldn't leave me alone, it was so peaceful there, but they asked me to help and I--I said _yes.”_ Yes? Yes to what? Help with what? Did Adam commit a crime for them? “But not, you know, _yes_ yes--it wasn’t consent.” Ah. That was… Aaron had gleaned that already, but further confirmation was horrifying all the same. “Michael couldn’t… couldn’t take me then. But they--he--” Words stumbled out of Adam’s mouth, so quickly, as if he couldn’t stop them from spilling out, now that he had started. “When Michael showed up, I couldn’t get away. I tried, I tried, but once he got me--I couldn’t say no. I tried to, but I… I didn’t last that long.”

Cannibals attacked and killed Kate. They also attacked Adam, it sounded like, but he had no scars that would reflect that. Or missing organs, thankfully. Perhaps they made him watch, before disposing of him? He might have been left for dead, or perhaps resuscitated.

If he were left for dead, perhaps that is how another unsub found him. It was astronomically unlikely to be left behind by one unsub to be found by another, but Aaron was not sure what else would make sense.

And if Adam had to be resuscitated, or was told as much, that would explain why he thought he had been killed.

Perhaps this wasn’t a case of a serial killer. Not for the second group of unsubs. It sounded like Adam was _delivered_ to this Michael. Depending on the group and their purpose, the profile would radically change. It could be anything from a trafficking ring, to less organized criminals that still saw a living human being as good as cash.

And when Michael got him, Adam was tortured into consenting to whatever Michael wanted. Aaron looked away from Adam, to get control over himself before continuing.

But how were the Winchesters involved? Were they the middlemen of this situation?

They had never done anything like that before, but the Winchesters had many drawers in Quantico of first times.

“You’re doing great, Adam,” Aaron said, as he wrapped an arm around Adam’s shoulders to bring him back to lean against him. “What happened then?”

“Michael--He--I don’t know,” Adam said. “I wasn’t awake then. I was in… a lot of pain. But I don’t--” Adam stopped. “Sam told me later that he let Lucifer in to trick him. But it didn’t work, which is why Lucifer got him. And Michael settled with me, so they started to fight each other, but Dean trapped us all in the Cage.”

“Sam?” Aaron asked. “Sam _Winchester_? _And_ Dean?”

“I… yes?” Adam said.

“You’re saying that you were trapped with this Michael and Lucifer as well as Sam Winchester?” Aaron asked, chilled at the very thought.

“Not for long. Sam got out,” Adam said. Then shrugged, as thought that didn’t matter.

“So Michael and Lucifer aren’t Dean and Sam Winchester,” Reid said, which wasn’t an angle Aaron had considered.

“Sam was Lucifer, for a hot minute,” Adam explained. Getting this off his chest seemed to be calming him down. At least now that they were not actively discussing the torture he went through. “Lucifer possessed him. Like Michael was possessing me. He wanted Dean, but he got stuck with me.”

Two unsubs, who each caught and tortured a person to act in their stead? To the point where the victims felt ‘possessed.’ Interesting choice of phrase, and not one that Aaron believed Adam would have used before. Perhaps it was the choice of the unsubs?

And not insignificantly, the targets of these unsubs were _also_ violent psychopaths. Sam Winchester would not have been an easy man to mold and control.

So why, then, would Michael accept Adam as a substitute?

“You do look a little like Dean…” Reid said, trailing off. He glanced at Aaron, who gave his nephew a hard look. Under the blindness of his familiarity, Aaron could admit that Adam would present a similar victimology as Dean Winchester. A tall white male with light brown hair and greenish eyes. The facial structures weren’t dissimilar. Fuck, they both even had _freckles_.

But why did it have to be _Adam?_

 _Convenience_ , Aaron answered himself. Someone working with or for Michael found Adam, left for dead. They realized that Adam was Michael’s type, and took him.

Shit. _Shit_.

“So you were trapped in a cage with Michael, Lucifer, and Sam Winchester,” Aaron prompted. “What happened then?”

Adam tensed. “Torture. Then Sam got out. Then more torture.”

“Alright,” Aaron said. They don’t need to talk about the specifics of the torture now. Adam may never want to speak to Aaron about him. Adam would be getting regular therapy appointments for the foreseeable future regardless. Almost certainly for the rest of his life. “How did you escape?”

“I said it already,” Adam said, agitation rising. “I killed them and broke out.”

“Was there anyone else there with you?”

“Yeah, Sam.”

“After he got out.”

Adam narrowed his eyes at his knee. “No,” he said.

“Were Michael and Lucifer the ones who fed you? To keep you alive all this time?”

Adam was silent for quite a while. “I guess. I don’t really know.”

“But no one else was there?” Aaron asked again. “Adam, are you certain about this?”  
  


“Yes, I’m certain!” Adam said. “I just spent an eternity stuck with Michael and Lucifer, I’m fucking certain!”

“Okay,” Aaron said. “It’s okay.” Too late; Adam retreated into himself again. His heartbeat was too high. They needed to take a break.

“Why don’t we stop there?” Reid suggested. “I’ll update the team so you can spend some time with Adam, Hotch,” he added, more for Adam’s benefit than Aaron’s.

“Sounds good. Keep me apprised,” Aaron told him.

“Bye, Adam. It was nice talking to you,” Reid said, pulling on a smile. Adam ignored him.

Aaron rubbed Adam’s shoulder as Reid left the room. He wouldn’t be going far, only so he could call the team without them overhearing. “I’m sorry, Adam,” he said.

“What for?” Adam asked.

 _Everything_ , he thought _._ For Adam’s long captivity to his distress now. “I should have found you,” said Aaron. “I’m sorry I didn’t. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Adam shrugged under Aaron’s hand. “You wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Aaron hated how certain that statement was. How little faith Adam had in him, and how he couldn’t even refute it.

He never found Adam after three years, after all. Adam saved himself.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Aaron asked before he could stop himself. The question had been eating away at him for the past three years.

And now he could finally get an answer.

Adam shifted to look up at him. He didn’t understand the question.

“When you returned to Windom. I haven’t been able to answer that question, after all these years. You came back to Windom, your mother was missing… and days went by. Three days. You never called me. Not even to let your aunt know her sister was missing. Why?”

Adam kept staring, eyes trailing away from Aaron’s face to a point beyond his head.

“Adam, why didn’t you _call me_?” Aaron insisted. This was not the way to speak to a person who had suffered years of trauma. Aaron was not acting as a member of the BAU right now, but family, and he had questions.

He thought fleetingly of Haley and his promise to her, and guilt squirmed in his gut.

“I didn’t have time,” said Adam. “I got home and then… I was in the crypt.”

“Adam, we were told that you were in Windom for three days before you disappeared,” said Aaron. “What did you do during that time?”

“No, I--I only just got back home before I was--I mean, I was there, but I--they pretended to be my mother and they--” Adam’s breath hitched.

The unsub pretended to be Kate? “You got home? And then what?” Aaron prompted.

“I heard my mom, but it--it wasn’t--it wasn’t her.”

“Adam, what happened _after_?”

Adam stared fixedly at some point on the blankets. “Then I was in the crypt.”

That didn’t match with the timeline at all. “Adam, people saw you around town for three days after you left school. You went to the diner. Your neighbors saw you on your street.” It wasn’t impossible that Adam’s memory would be missing chunks of time. But to miss such an important piece…

Aaron had been waiting a long time for these answers.

“Adam, you need to _remember_ ,” pushed Aaron. “What happened during those three days? Why didn’t you call me?”

“It wasn’t me!” Adam cried. “The monster stole my face! It wasn’t me!”

“Do you mean someone was pretending to be you around town?” Not impossible, but not very likely either. Adam was really well-known in Windom; practically the town’s golden child. People knew his face and behavior there.

Impersonating him successfully, without anyone realizing that it wasn’t Adam, would have been impossible.

“Adam,” said Aaron, careful and gentle, “you were seen around town.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Adam--”

“IT WASN’T _ME_!” Adam shouted. The door to the room opens, revealing Reid.

Reid hesitated for just a moment, then evidently decided that his interference was required. Aaron could not fault him for the conclusion.

“Adam,” said Reid gently, while Aaron takes a metaphorical and literal step back. “It’s okay. We’re going to figure this out.”

“It wasn’t me,” repeated Adam. “It wasn’t me, I swear it wasn’t me…”

Traumatic memory loss. Or some form of psychosis. What would cause a psychotic break, as soon as he returned to Windom?

 _His mother’s body,_ realized Aaron, startling as a new timeline clicked into place. One that finally could explain Adam’s actions; if he had returned to his home and _found_ his mother’s body in the crypt, that would more than explain his bizarre actions afterward.

Memory loss wouldn’t explain why Adam didn’t contact him. It would only explain his assertions now, but not his actions at the time. If he had a psychotic break, then… that would do it. It wasn’t perfect, with too much left unexplained. Kate’s body hadn’t been at her house. Adam must have gone to the house, and then to the crypt.

During that time, he could have called Aaron.

“We’ll figure it out, Adam, don’t worry about that,” Reid told Adam. The beeping from his heart monitor slows its rapid frequency. “Are you tired? Hungry? Do you want anything?”

Adam sunk back into his bed, looking small and miserable. “I’d like some chips. And soda.”

“I’ll be right back,” proclaimed Reid. As he walked out, he shot Aaron an inquisitive look. Gauging his emotional well-being. Deciding to assuage his concerns and debrief, he followed him out the door.

“Are you alright, Hotch?” asked Reid, the moment they were far enough away from the room so as not to be overheard.

“I’m fine,” Aaron answered immediately. “I believe Adam had a psychotic break when he returned to his home. I can’t think of any other reason why he wouldn’t have called me.”

Reid frowned. “You think he managed to find her and get away from the unsubs?”

“Perhaps he only found her corpse,” Aaron suggested.

Reid bit his lip. “That wouldn’t match our timeline. Kate was kept alive for several days. If Adam did find her when he returned to Windom, he would have found her alive.”

Aaron didn’t breathe. “That would explain a psychotic break as well.”

“It would,” agreed Reid. “But if he found his mother alive, presumably with the unsubs, how did he get away?”

A distressing thought that had no optimistic resolutions. How Adam escaped the unsubs when finding Kate’s body was a pertinent question, even if he had only found her body, but if she had been alive… if he had not been able to save her, what had stopped him? What else would stop him aside from the unsubs?

But then, how did he escape? Did they free him just to toy with him those three days?

“If Kate was alive,” realized Aaron, “they could have used her to keep him from contacting me.”

“Threatening his mother’s life, or even trying to lessen her suffering would be ample motivation to not reach out to you,” Reid said.

“That would--yes,” Aaron said. Kate and Adam were always very close. He even wanted to follow in her footsteps and go to medical school. If he thought he could save her life on his own, or that by contacting Aaron he would get her killed…

Adam had been a very responsible kid. But he was a kid, who knew he was very smart, capable, and just as independent as his mother. If he had thought he had to save his mother on his own, he would have tried.

“It could be traumatic memory loss,” said Reid, a bit tentatively. “When he failed to save her, and then was captured himself, it could have…”

“It’s alright, Reid. I’m--” began Aaron, then stopped. Carefully considered his next words. “I may be your superior, but here, you should proceed as you would with any other case. I am family, and as such, discussing details with me is not advisable.”

Reid grimly nodded. “I’ll see if any of the team can head over here and help me with questioning. We need answers, but we need to interview him carefully. It’ll take some time, and… maybe… you should hold off from asking Adam questions. For a while. Just be his family.” He took a step back, visibly waffling on something. “If we’re going to treat you like family, we also have to… well. Consider you a suspect.”

Aaron knew this. Everyone on the team would be profiling him, picking apart his life and his family. He had accepted this invasion of privacy as a necessary evil for his team to do their job and find Kate’s murderers and Adam’s torturers. Nonetheless, it grated on him, just as it did when he was kicked off the initial investigation years ago. Insisting he be involved, however, would reflect poorly on him at best. “Yes, of course. I was questioned over Kate’s murder and Adam’s disappearance several years ago as well. Elle and Morgan should have those by now.”

“Yeah, I’ll contact them,” said Reid. “I think Morgan should try talking to him.”

Because Morgan, as a sexual assault survivor, might be able to get through to Adam. Surviving was not a singular event, but an ongoing process. One that Adam must now begin. “I agree.”

“Okay. Great,” said Reid. He hovered, awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Hotch, but since we have to consider you a suspect, I can’t leave you and Adam alone. I shouldn’t have earlier. But I, well, you understand, right?”

“Of course,” said Aaron.

They returned to Adam’s room, where he had fallen into a fitful sleep. Aaron quietly took the bedside chair, ignoring Reid while he rapidly texted members of the team and failing not to contemplate what he might be sending them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire chapter is all one scene, lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch made a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter done for like two weeks, but I got so busy with work and everything that I forgot to actually post it. well... here it is!

Adam tossed around so much that Aaron woke him up, and they waited in silence for Morgan and Elle to arrive. When they do, Reid made a beeline for Morgan, catching him and stepping away from Adam’s private room to debrief. Elle remained, shooting him a small, grim smile.

“Hi, Adam,” said Elle, approaching the bed. Adam’s eyes swivelled immediately over to her, his restless movement freezing as he tensed up. “I’ve heard you’ve had a rough time.”

Adam didn’t react, so she continued sympathetically, “I want you to know that you’ve been very brave.”

“You have,” said Aaron, as Adam’s eyes flicked towards him. “I’m so proud of you. Haley is too.”

Adam’s mouth twisted, almost like he might smile, but he looked instead like he was going to cry. And then he did, in fact, begin to cry.

Aaron perched himself on the bed again and pulled him closer. Unlike Reid, Elle made no attempt to hide that she was observing them. When she caught his eye, she tapped her phone a couple of times. Discreetly, he checked his phone to see her message of, _have they done a rape kit yet? they should have_

 _I dont know,_ he typed out with one hand.

She nodded, typing something else out on her phone. Aaron didn’t receive any more messages from her, so he presumed she was asking Reid or Morgan to find out if they hadn’t already.

He turned his attention to Adam, holding him until he stopped sobbing. He went still and quiet, and Aaron couldn’t tell if he had fallen to sleep or not.

He shifted a bit, and Adam didn’t stir. Asleep, then.

Carefully he laid him back down on the bed, sighing as the past hour catch up to him.

“You alright, Hotch?” said Morgan behind him. Elle was no longer in the room. He hadn’t heard her leave.

“I’ll be fine,” said Aaron quietly.

Morgan made a noise of amused disbelief. “You’re going to get real tired of us asking you that, but we’re not going to stop asking. We’re gonna keep reminding you that we’re here for you.”

The team cared. Aaron intended to never waver in his answer, but it was heartwarming all the same. “Thank you,” said Aaron.

Morgan smiled easily. Too relaxed. He approached Aaron like he would any victim’s family, open and approachable and confident. Well, at least Morgan didn’t make this harder with any awkwardness. “I’m going to need to talk to Adam when he wakes up, and it might be easier to do that with him alone.”

Aaron breathed out, slowly. “I’ll ask him if he wants me here for that conversation.”

“And will you be okay if he doesn’t want you around for that conversation?” asked Morgan mildly.

Aaron’s jaw tensed. “Of course I will.”

Morgan considered him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

…

Adam’s rest had been short-lived and uneasy up to this point, so they waited rather than wake them. The silence in which Aaron refrained from asking about the case bore a hole into his nerves.

“Is there anything you can tell me?” he asked after too much silence.

“We’ve gotten in contact with his friends from school,” said Morgan after a moment. “Both college and high school. His boyfriend--well, ex-boyfriend, I guess--is on his way now. So are some other people. We’ll question them when they arrive, but none of them stick out immediately as suspicious.”

“They didn’t before, either.”

“Reid said that the kid told you that he killed his captors,” said Morgan. “So we might just be looking for bodies.”

“There is the unexplained component about the Winchesters,” Aaron pointed out. He kept shifting in his chair, unable to get comfortable.

Morgan hummed. “The Winchesters have been seen all over the country the past three years. They wouldn’t have been able to hold someone in captivity long-term like that.”

“Perhaps he was with them the entire time. It would be difficult to track, that way,” Aaron suggested. “And haven’t the Winchesters been less active recently?”

Frowning, Morgan said, tapping his finger against his arm, “Keeping someone under control while traveling would be extremely difficult. Especially to keep that person from being seen or from attracting attention.”

“The Winchesters are highly skilled,” said Aaron. “But Adam differentiated between Sam Winchester and his captors.”

“Could have been aliases.”

“He said that Sam Winchester escaped from Lucifer and Michael while Adam did not. That doesn’t sound like an alias to me.”

Morgan rubbed his forehead in thought. “So then we’d be talking about two unsubs, dangerous and clever enough to keep a man like Sam Winchester captive while avoiding his brother’s wrath, who we still haven’t been able to get any sort of description of?”

“Yes,” said Aaron. He closed his eyes, trying to stave off an oncoming headache. He did this all the time, but never as a family member. “That seems unlikely.”

“It does, but it’s not impossible. It would help if these guys didn’t seem like they were complete ghosts. And it is really suspicious that the Winchesters were in town around Kate’s and Adam’s disappearance.” Morgan’s silence spurred Aaron to turn to him. Tense, he added, “Adam was seen with the Winchesters at the diner in town. A day after he arrived.”

His breath left him, with only icy panic remaining. “How did we miss that?”

Morgan shrugged. “We had to track down the waitress who worked there at the time. Her mother was undocumented, so she avoided all law enforcement at the time. Her coworker had covered for her before, and Adam hadn’t been there during her shift.”

“Fuck,” said Aaron. His head began to pound at the temples, memories of the disinterested but cooperative waitress at the diner telling them matter-of-factly that _no, she hadn’t seen Adam in months, of course she would recognize him, the town is small as shit._ “Fuck!”

“Hotch,” said Morgan, as if he was going to tell him that it was alright. It wasn’t, not in the least, and Morgan wisely rethought saying anything of the sort.

How had they missed something so vital? _How_ had they missed that they’d spoken to the wrong waitress?

“You’ve got Adam back,” said Morgan. “He’s alive, and he’s here. You gotta focus on the now, Hotch. Adam needs you.”

“Right,” said Aaron, head pounding worse than before. He had gone through a variety of unimaginable situations and only rarely allowed it to affect him on the job. But he was not on the job here. This was not a stranger. “Of course.”

The silence passed uneasily. It wasn’t long before Adam stirred and woke up, but it felt like an eternity.

“Michael?” asked Adam.

His stomach dropped like a lead ball. The implications that Adam expected Michael to be present when he woke up were… sickening.

But then why wouldn’t he know what Michael looked like? “No, Adam, it’s me. Aaron.”

“Aaron?” asked Adam. His face twisted in confusion.

“You’re in the hospital,” said Aaron, mentally noting to talk to the neurologist about short-term memory problems. “You’re safe. You’re going to go home.”

Bizarrely, Adam said, “I got out of Hell…” The terminology was odd, but given that they had established his captors had delusions of religious grandiosity, perhaps he had come to call the place he was trapped _Hell._

“You did,” said Aaron. “You did great. Do you think you could answer some of my colleague’s questions?”

Adam groaned. “More questions?”

His mouth twitched a bit. That, at least, sounded like something a young twenty-something would say. “Unfortunately. There’s still a lot we don’t know, and you’re the only person who can answer them.”

“Hey, Adam,” said Morgan. He waved a little when Adam’s attention swiveled to him. “I’m one of your uncle’s coworkers. Mind if we chat for a bit?”

Adam shrugged without sitting up. Morgan pressed on, “Now, I want to ask you some questions. Just what you can remember at the moment. But first, do you want your uncle to stay in the room while we talk?”

Eyes drifting away from them, Adam nodded to his knees. Morgan continued, “Would you prefer to talk to me? Or to Agent Greenaway?” Adam’s mouth made the shape of her name, puzzling out if he knew her, and Morgan tacked on, “Elle. She was here before I was.”

“Oh,” Adam said. “You’re fine.”

Morgan smiled. “Best compliment I’ve gotten all day.”

“That wasn’t a--oh,” said Adam, retreating a bit. “You’re joking.”

“It is a compliment. I appreciate that you’re willing to speak with me.” Morgan wore honesty and strength in a way that could inspire that Aaron could never emulate, not without an openness that Morgan wore without fear. “Remember, this is going to take some time. No one expects you to remember everything today. We’re going to go through as much as you can today, and we’ll pick it up later when you want to stop.”

“I don’t… really remember…” Adam said, splotchy and tense.

“That’s okay. If you can’t remember anything, we’ll try again another day. Is it alright if I record you, or write down notes?”

“Oh, uh… sure?”

Morgan fished his audio recorder out of his pocket, and tapped it on. “Do I have your permission to record?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great,” Morgan smiled. “Let’s start with the beginning. What can you tell me about what you remember about the day you came back to Windom?”

Hunching further and pulling the bed covers higher, Adam said, “I already told Aaron and that other guy about that.”

“You did,” agreed Morgan. He remained completely relaxed in his chair. “I thought we could start there since you remember some of it already. We can skip it, though, if you’d rather?”

“Oh. Um, no, I guess…” His fingers twitched against the bed sheet, and he didn’t relax at all, avoiding both of their gazes. It allowed Aaron to keep up his own examination of Adam’s behavior, but he would have to be more sneaky about that when Adam looked at them. “What else did you want to know?”

“Well, what do you remember about the drive up to Windom? I know that’s one hell of a drive.”

“It’s just four hours,” said Adam.

“Six, actually,” Aaron said dryly. “If you go the speed limit.”

“Speed limits are for people who didn’t just find out that their mom was missing,” Adam snapped.

“Like you’ve never gone past the speed limit when you were in a hurry, Hotch,” Morgan teased. Minutely, Adam’s white-knuckled grip on the bed covers eased. “It sounds like you remember when you found out that your mom was missing. Could you tell me more about that?”

“Ye-yeah… I was in class…” He started picking at the blanket. “I was… I got a call from Joe. Detective Barton. He was always really nice to my mom and me…”

“He called you during class?” Morgan prompted, when Adam trailed off into silence.

“Yeah,” he said with a start. “Organic chemistry. It was a Monday, so when I saw Joe was calling, I stepped out to take the call. I remember I was… relieved. For an excuse to leave the classroom. I hated o-chem.” His breathing picked up. “I was _relieved_ , and my mom was--!”

“Do you remember what Detective Barton said to you?” Morgan asked. Detective Joseph Barton’s role in the events were… unclear, at best. He had called Adam despite being retired and no longer officially on the force. He had told his former colleagues that he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else breaking the news to Adam, which had been solemnly accepted as truth. He had been one of their leading suspects due to his own disappearing act, but summarily dismissed as the primary culprit when his body was found in a similar state to Kate’s.

Barton had _some_ role in Kate and Adam’s fates, but what role that was and if it was explicitly malicious remained murky.

“He told me my mom was missing, and that it didn’t look good. He said that I should come to Windom right away,” Adam said. “And then… I grabbed my stuff and left. My friends helped, but…” Shooting up suddenly, he cried out, “Holy shit, my _friends!_ Are they okay? Are they--do they know I’m alive?”

“They do,” Morgan said. “We let them know. Some of them are on their way to see you.”

Adam blinked furiously, trying not to cry. He ducked his head down to his knees so they couldn’t see his face, breath hitching.

Morgan gave him a moment. “They’re all so happy you’re alive, Adam. Getting back here is amazing. You know that, right?”

He nodded, an uneven jerk of his head. “Is Darin… is he coming?”

“He is,” Morgan answered. “Spoke with him myself. He’s thrilled you’re alive. He’s heading from school as we speak.”

“School… it’s been three years?” Adam wondered aloud. “So he’d be… a senior, or just graduated…”

“Just graduated,” said Morgan with a smile. “Sounded like he’s doing well.”

“So he’s… is he working on film productions? With lighting? He wanted to do that so badly.”

“He’s doing some local theater,” Morgan answered. Garcia must have screened all of Adam’s friends before they contacted them. “Seems like he’s still aiming towards his goal.”

“Great,” said Adam with a release of tension he’d been holding onto the entire time. “That’s great.”

“A lot of your friends are planning to visit, too,” Morgan said. “Matt, Lani, Abigail, Harper… your bio prof is also heading down.”

“Dr. Olson?” asked Adam. At Morgan’s nod, he said, “Oh… that’s really nice of her…”

“It is. Your friends missed you,” he said. “Your town set up a scholarship in your name. And a memorial.”

“A memorial?” Adam asked with more vibrancy than before. “Like on a bench?”

Morgan laughed, and Aaron smiled a little. “Nah, it’s a small statue in the park. Some biology thing your friends said you would appreciate.”

“Shit, I’d like to see that,” Adam said. “Oh, God, I’d be seeing my own memorial. That’s fucking weird. Wait, do I have a gravestone? Can I see that too?”

“If you want,” said Aaron, after a pause. He forced his shoulders to relax; Adam was only twenty-two. Why wouldn’t he have a morbid curiosity in what happened when the people he loved assumed he was dead? “Of course.”

“What was my funeral like?” asked Adam, with an edge to his demeanor that wasn’t there before. “Who came?”

A bit morbid, but curiosity wasn’t abnormal. Aaron answered, “Much of your high school classmates. And your friends in college. Teachers as well.”

“Did they cry?” He demanded to know, and tacked on, “Did _you_ cry?”

Taken aback, Aaron answered, “No,” before he could think better of it.

Adam’s face hardened, and he straightened until he was sitting up in bed. His heart rate monitor began beeping frantically. “Shows how much you care,” he snapped.

Aaron opened his mouth, not sure what was about to come out. Would he defend his horrific, unthinking lie? To minimize the damage of his words without backtracking on them, explain that he grieved nonetheless? Would he tell the truth and be forced to backtrack? To explain to his nephew and his colleague that his reflex _was_ to lie?

Would telling the truth at this point matter? Adam was already upset and hurt, and had every right to be. He easily might not believe him, even if he explained. Should he then?

Before he could say whatever disastrous statement he landed on, Morgan cut in, “Hotch, why don’t you let me talk to Adam one-on-one for a bit?” _And don’t come back_ , was obvious.

“I didn’t mean--” Aaron began, but Morgan stood up, the metallic screeching of his chair interrupting him.

“Adam, I’ll be right back,” he said with a tight smile. He had the good sense to not try to drag Aaron out of the room, but he knew that he wanted to.

Elle waited outside, and went into the room without a word. Her expression was thankfully blank; she must not have over heard through the door. She would not bother to hold back her judgement if she had. They continue down the hall to a semi-private corner of the hospital.

“Hotch, and I say this with all due respect, but what the everloving fuck were you thinking?” demanded Morgan. “Why did you _lie?_ Why didn’t you just tell the kid that you cried when you thought he was _dead?”_

No explanation would be sufficient. Aaron managed to single-handedly ruin any progress they’d made, and Morgan’s job of interviewing him would be so much more difficult now.

Whatever Morgan saw on his face prompted him to continue. “Just… go connect with Gideon. See if he’s decided who’s going to interview you yet. He’s already been talking to Haley.” He sighed. “I’ll try to minimize the damage. But, Hotch--”

“Just tell him I’m an asshole.” Giving up and allowing himself a small amount of weakness, Aaron leaned against the wall. “That’ll help.”

Morgan snorted. “Not gonna argue that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam would never see Michael again at all. Because Michael was dead. Adam killed him.

It was hot.

Sunglasses didn’t help with the search for clues, and they desperately needed clues. Derek pulled off his sunglasses, squinting in the bright sunlight and wiping sweat off his brow as he joined Elle and Gideon at their makeshift headquarters in the woods.

“Find anything new?” he asked, optimistic despite the fact that if they had, they would have told him before he left the hospital. Given him something new to approach Adam with, to use to tease out more out of him.

Adam was still the only new clue they have, and his account riddled with delusions of angels and devils. They had to take what he says with a grain of salt.

Elle pursed her lips and answers, “We’ve found his tracks.”

“Finally!” said Derek. “We find where they lead to?” Gideon and Elle quieted in a way that set Derek’s nerves on edge. _Yes,_ their silence told them, but they didn’t like what they found. Or worse, it answered no questions. “What is it?”

“Come take a look,” Gideon said, “I’d like your insight.”

He pulled on some covers for his shoes, and they walked through the woods. Little, brightly colored flags marked each footstep on the ground as evidence. “These all Adam?” he asked.

“One set of footsteps, men’s size eleven,” answered Gideon. “We’ll need to check Adam’s boots for physical confirmation, but we believe them to be his.”

“No other sets of prints?” Derek asked, just for confirmation.

“No,” said Elle, voice odd. “No other sets.”

Derek came to a halt along with Gideon and Elle. The flags continued on for several meters in front of them, and ended in front of a mound of dirt that surrounds a hole. The hole was less than two feet wide, earth crumbling on the undisturbed ground surrounding it in uprooted pieces.

“What the…” he said, as he walked forward to look closer. Elle and Gideon did not come with him.

The hole was approximately big enough for a grown man to crawl out of. It was not the first time Derek has seen the aftermath of someone being buried alive.

It was the first where the individual dug their way out successfully.

He stared. Something was wrong with this picture.

Chill going through him despite the heat, he asked, “How deep is this?”

“About six feet,” said Elle.

“Shit.”

“It’s rather… impressive,” said Gideon.

“Impressive is a word for it,” said Elle. “Being buried alive would be an awful way to die.”

“Yeah…” Derek said absent-mindedly. He walked around the hole, stepping on leaves and branches and weeds. Aside from the hole and the footsteps, nothing else was marked with a flag, and nothing else stood out around them as a potential lead.

If not for the hole, Derek would not have known there was anything unusual about this site, even. The hole itself was barely noticeable, anyway. It would have been easy to miss, as the site lacked the signs of freshly dug earth a new grave should have.

“What the fuck?” he said, as he realized why Gideon and Elle jhad wanted him to see this. “How the hell did they get him in there?”

“We haven’t figured that out yet,” said Gideon. “We’re searching the surrounding areas, but this is all we have currently.”

Derek tapped the earth with his foot. “Maybe they moved the surface level around to make it look natural?”

“Did a good job then. Can’t tell the difference,” said Elle, coming forward. “Maybe they put him in vertically?”

“Can we confirm that? With a light and camera down there?” asked Derek. “We should be able to see that.”

“If he was put in their vertically, the hole wouldn’t be deep enough for Adam,” said Gideon. “He’s about six feet himself.”

“Maybe it was a threat? Or a method of torture,” Derek spitballed. “But there aren’t any other tracks.”

“There aren’t,” Elle frowned. “If there were two unsubs, and Adam says they’re both dead, you’d think we see some sign of them. I would expect bodies, honestly.”

“Yeah,” Derek said. “So would I.”

He gazed around the surroundings. The trees were stoic and still in the heat, the faint buzzing of bugs and the odd chatter of local cops the only noise.

“Adam said he killed his captors,” Derek mused. “He also said that we wouldn’t find any bodies.”

“How could he be so sure of that?” asked Elle, toeing closer to the hole, peering down it. She pulled out her flashlight, leaning over to illuminate it. “We’re sure this is six feet, right? It doesn’t lead anywhere?”

Gideon shook his head. “The local team has already measured it. Six feet, six inches.”

“So long enough to cover someone as tall as Adam,” said Derek. “But not if he’s still alive.”

“Maybe they didn’t know he was still alive?” suggested Elle. “Do you think he could have faked dead while being buried alive?”

Derek considered. “The instinct to fight and struggle isn’t voluntary if you can’t breathe,” he said. “But maybe Adam accounted for that? There’s no telling if something like this had been done to him before.”

“He saw an opportunity to escape, one way or another,” said Gideon. He walked around the hole. “Let’s walk through this. Adam is by himself, surrounded by two captors.”

“There’s no sign that they were here, though,” said Elle, frustrated. “As far as the evidence goes, Adam dug himself out of a hole and walked out.”

“What does it mean if his captors weren’t here?” asked Gideon, more to himself than directed at either of them.

Derek crouched by the hole, visualizing himself in Adam’s place. “Maybe he was hiding? I can’t think of many reasons why anyone would bury themselves.”

“There aren’t any footprints leading here,” said Elle. “There’s _nothing._ And if he was running or hiding from someone, we should see it.”

Gideon nodded absently. “Hm.”

Elle leaned down further. “Does it seem cold here to you?” When she glanced up at Derek, he kept up eye contact as he wiped more sweat off of his forehead. “No, I mean--come here.”

She grabbed Derek’s wrist and guided his hand into the hole, pressing his gloved hand against the soil. It was quite cold, especially in comparison to the hot day.

“Huh. That’s kinda weird, but it’s underground,” he said. He looked over his shoulder to Gideon. “Forensics is all done here, right?” At his nod, Derek jumped down into the hold. His eyeline went below the edge of the surface by several inches. “Jesus. The bottom is even colder.”

“Why is it so cold?” asked Elle.

“Is it wet? There was a thunderstorm a few days ago.”

Derek felt the earth in front of him. “That could be it.” He used his light to examine the hole, kneeling down as best he could we he saw that it widened at the bottom. It extended out into an L-shape. As if Adam had been buried in a prone position. He touched the edge, and watched dirt crumble under his hand.

“Guys? I don’t think Adam was buried standing up. Pretty sure he was lying down,” he called out.

“Well, shit. There goes the hiding theory,” said Elle. “Anything else down there?”

Scanning with the flashlight, Derek said, “Nope. Doesn’t look like it. We’ll have to see if forensics find anything. Elle, give me a hand?”

Elle lifted him out, and he brushed the grave dirt off of himself. “We’ll have to discuss this with the team. Can’t say that I’ve got any good theories here.”

“Can we ask Adam?” asked Elle. “How was he during your interview?”

“As well as could be expected,” he said. “We didn’t get very far. And he’s… well. He’s still pretty deep in delusions.” Derek sighed, rubbing his temple. “Based on what Reid said, the kid has pretty serious amnesia. Probably had some kind of psychotic break when he got back to town. He remembers pieces, like that the Winchesters were in town, but not that he got lunch with them.”

“So he’s not going to be useful as a witness,” Gideon said, standing at the edge of the hole and gazing downwards. For a moment, sorrow crossed his face but passed just as quickly as he regained his composure. “And Aaron?”

“He fucked up with the kid,” Derek told them bluntly. “You know I’m not one to underestimate Hotch, but he’s gonna have his hands full with Adam. He’s not going to be able to help.”

“Shit, what did he do?” asked Elle.

“Kid asked if he cried at his funeral. Hotch said he hadn’t.” Elle scoffed. The three of them idled at the burial site, but there was no reason to linger. They saw everything that was there to be seen.

“We must be missing something,” said Gideon. He trailed away from them so they couldn't see his face. He was more frustrated than Derek had ever seen him.

Yeah, Derek understood that. Usually they would have a better understanding of the events by now. A cohesive storyline.

Adam survived. He survived and a living witness. They should _have_ something by now.

“Nothing’s underneath here, right?” asked Derek. “Like, Adam dig his way out of… a bunker, or anything, did he?”

“If he did, the hole he dug should lead us right there,” Elle pointed out.

“He had to put the dirt he dug somewhere. Maybe he buried the path out as he went?”

“We can get some excavators here,” said Jason. “It’s the best theory we’ve got. How would he breathe if he buried his path on the way out? Why wouldn’t it be one straight hole?”

“God, who knows? Maybe he couldn’t go straight up. Maybe he didn’t know which _way_ was up.”

“Well, we can find that out easily enough.” Gideon looked out across the woods. “Does this area seem strange to either of you?”

“Not really,” said Derek, considering. “I mean, no more than the obvious.”

Elle shrugged. “It’s quieter than I would expect, but otherwise, no.”

Gideon hummed, and continued to walk around the area.

Failing to uncover any other evidence, they departed in silence, none of them quite able to think of what could explain their peculiar findings.

…

His face stared back at him in the foggy mirror, the section he’d wiped obscuring rapidly returning in the humid bathroom. There was a part of Adam that didn’t believe he would ever look at himself without seeing Michael again.

Adam would never see Michael again at all. Because Michael was dead. Adam killed him.

He swallowed and lifted a shaking hand that had none of the grace of an angel to tentatively skim the shape of his face. It was real. He was real. He was really out.

Out of Hell.

Or what his mind told him was Hell. Still Hell, but not as real a hell as Hell would be. Because Hell didn’t exist and neither did angels.

But it all felt real, didn’t it? Adam remembered the cloying, invasive tendrils of Michael’s _power_ spreading out into his chest, his cells, his very soul until Michael smothered him into a dark, quiet recess of his mind. Remaining conscious and thinking was an uphill battle, too many flashes and sparks around him, wrapping him in wrath and devotion until Adam couldn’t breathe or think.

“It wasn’t real,” he said to himself, slowly, deliberately, watching his lips move as he willed them to. His body responded to Adam and Adam alone. He was alone inside his head, after all.

Of course he was alone in his head. Being possessed by an angel had only been a delusion. A delusion he made to protect himself.

That was all.

He looked down at his chest and his belly, blinking away the overlaid imagery of his flesh bloody and torn as pieces are ripped out by his mother’s and Detective Barton’s smiling faces.

_It wasn’t real._

Adam was whole and alive. None of it was real. He was the proof. What proof was there of ghouls and angels? Nothing.

It wasn’t real.

He heard his uncle walk back into the room and approach the bathroom. His uncle knocked on the door after a moment of hesitation. “Adam? Are you alright?”

“Go away,” he whispers, voice hoarse. Adam swallowed and said louder. “Go away.”

“I’m sorry,” said Aaron through the door. “I didn’t cry at your funeral. I had to be there for your Aunt Haley, and I had to keep a look out for anyone acting suspicious at your funeral. I cried for you later, when I was alone.”

The words were said with no power behind them, Aaron’s thoughts and feelings remaining fully contained within himself and not touching Adam at all. He was alone.

He hadn’t been alone in centuries.

_It wasn’t real._

“It’s okay,” said Adam. Even if it had really only been three years, it felt like it had been an eternity since he’d seen him. His memories of his Uncle Aaron were foggy, but he knew he had never seen him cry. He was too stoic for that.

Adam had always thought that Aaron was the coolest growing up. He chased down serial killers and murderers and never flinched.

Adam’s greatest concern going into college was that he wouldn’t be able to stomach the gorier aspects of medical care.

Now, though… none of it was real, but he could still see what his body looked like torn apart. He closed his eyes. The images remained.

“Adam?”

“Hang on,” he said. He roughly toweled off his hair, then threw it aside as he opened the door.

His uncle stood there, examining Adam’s appearance with a precision that gave him the unnerving impression that Aaron could read his thoughts.

He knew the sensation of his thoughts being thoroughly invaded, helpless to the entity of unimaginable power threading into his mind, whispering promises of vengeance, love, and protection. Conviction not his own bleeding into his own sense of morality, plying him to do what was right and just.

Aaron couldn’t read minds.

Even if reading minds were possible. Because it hadn’t been real.

“You were in the shower for a while,” said Aaron. “Are you feeling at all better?”

Adam rubbed his arm, where the skin is still pink from the heat of the water. “A little.” He moved past Aaron, reminding himself that no one can see inside his head anymore.

The thought shouldn’t make him feel lonely.

Reid, who was now seated in the chair beside the bed, gave him a small smile. With relief, Adam crawled into the small hospital bed, pulling the comforter up to his neck. Despite the warm air coming through the open window, Adam felt so cold.

“Do you have a fever?” asked Aaron, following Adam to the bed and pressing his palm against his forehead. “No, it doesn’t seem like it. Do you want another blanket?”

Adam nodded, and his uncle left to get one from the nurse. The blanket he returned with is scratchy and cheap, but its weight is a welcome addition. Far better than anything in Hell, at any rate.

Not Hell. It wasn’t real.

“Hey, Adam,” said Reid, drawing his attention. “How are you feeling?”

Already annoyed at how many times he’d been ask that, he said, “Fine.”

Another small smile. This agent really looked pretty young. Especially to be working with his uncle. “Think you’re up to answering more questions?”

Adam made a face. So many questions. “I guess so.”

Reid smiled at him again, and Adam couldn’t tell if he meant it or not.

He reached down into his bag, and pulled out two photographs and placed them on the bedspread. “Do you recognize any of this?”

Adam stared. He knew he should recognize what is in the photos. That would be the only reason why they’d show them to him.

“I don’t know?” He glanced at Reid, whose fingers redirect his gaze to one of the photographs.

“This is where you were found,” said Reid, “and this is where we tracked your footsteps to. As far as we can tell, this is where you started walking.”

“Oh,” said Adam. He didn’t recognize the hole, but he could remember digging through cold, noise and pain surrounding him until it didn’t and his hand hit air instead of grave dirt. It was the second time he’d dug himself out of a grave, but last time he had been resurrected by Zachariah.

This time he had dug his way out of Hell.

Or… that was what he thought had happened but… it couldn’t be real.

He strained his mind trying to remember what happened, but only managed to develop a headache.

“Adam?” He looked away from the photographs to Reid’s face. His uncle hovered by the foot of the bed. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he said. “I don’t really remember much.”

“Can you tell me what you do remember?” asked Reid. His voice is quiet, and Adam had trouble hearing him. He kept expecting bass in words that would reverb through his whole being.

Adam swallowed. “It’s not going to be helpful.”

Reid smiled. It was a simple pull of his lips, revealing his teeth. An easy enough movement, in concept. How long had it been since Adam smiled? “Anything you can tell me will be helpful,” Reid told him.

His uncle’s face was impassive behind Reid. It was an expression Aaron often had in his memories, even the good ones.

“I remember digging,” Adam began. “Until I got to light. And then…” What had he done? There was nothing in his head between the first breath of fresh air and his growing awareness in the hospital.

“It’s okay. How about we try this a different way?” said Reid. “Can you describe what sensations you remember, starting at the digging? What you saw, heard, smelled, felt?”

What he saw? Darkness. Tricks of flickering lights in his eyes making him jump, wary of demons coming after him again, terrified that the archangels didn’t really die.

Could these archangels really even die? Adam had spent so long in their grasp, surrounded by their grace and power, held together by the unbendable stasis that is Hell. He was alone in his head, but what did that matter in the face of centuries of angelic possession and exposure?

No. Michael and Lucifer were just guys. People. Humans. They told him they were angels, and Adam believed them to survive. That was the only rational explanation.

But, he had to answer the question.

“It was dark,” he said slowly. Carefully. He didn’t want them to think he was crazy. “And cold. I was… scared. That I would be caught.”

“Caught?” asked Reid. “Caught by whom?”

“Demons. I kept seeing them. But my eyes also played tricks on me…” Adam trailed off. Reid began to bite his own lips a little bit. He thought that might be a bad sign. “Or that Michael and Lucifer weren’t really dead, and would catch me. I kept digging, and…” His hand hit the surface, meeting no resistance in the blessedly warm air. “I got out. It was… a lot warmer, but I was still cold, and… I didn’t know where I was. Or where to go. I just… went.” Exhilarated. Exhausted. He succeeded, but now what to do? “Then I was at the hospital. I don’t know… exactly when I realized that.”

“Okay. Okay,” said Reid. “Do you remember how you got underground in the first place?”

Yes. “I was pushed. I--I’m going to sound crazy.”

“It’s not crazy. It’s your mind helping you survive,” said Reid. “It’s incredible, what we can survive. And you survived. I’m not going to think you’re crazy for anything you tell me.”

“I dug my way out of Hell,” he blurted out. Reid’s face didn’t change, and neither does his uncle’s. Reassured, he continued. “It was the only way out.” How had he known that? He couldn’t remember. Did someone tell him? A demon? Was it Michael? “I got out of the Cage, and… fought my way out through the demons. Until I found where I needed to go. And then I went.”

“You were very brave,” said Reid. Adam wasn’t sure, but he thought he might even mean it. “You said you were in a cage?”

Adam rubbed his hair, which was still damp from his shower. “Yeah. The Cage.”

“Now, Adam, I need you to try really hard for me now,” said Reid. “Can you recall anything about it? About where you were, any sights, or sounds, or smells?”

Adam was shaking his head before Reid finished the sentence. “I couldn’t see outside the Cage.”

“Did you hear anything while you were there?”

 _Had_ he? The Cage had been crafted by Michael contain Lucifer, and Lucifer alone. It wasn’t meant for two archangels, let alone a living human. Neither Hell nor the Cage exist in a physical space--all Adam could remember from the Cage were the archangels surrounding him. Suffocating him. Passing _through_ him. By the end, their thoughts and memories slid through his mind as easily as his own.

Noise had been constant and grating. Whispers and screams from voices that Adam learned to understand, and wished he hadn’t.

But… no. Had those been people around him? Had he… had he been hallucinating, trapped and alone in a cage, unable to even figure out that there were people suffering nearby?

“There were people,” he said. “Whispering and talking. All the time. But I… I never saw them.”

“Did they blindfold you?” asked Reid. “How did they prevent you from seeing?”

“I couldn’t see outside the Cage,” repeated Adam. “And… it was dark. I think.” He could see the angels down there. But had he? The longer he tried to recall what an angel’s true form looked like, the more it slipped away.

“It was dark,” Reid echoed, twisting around to Aaron. “Hotch, people undergoing sensory deprivation can begin to hallucinate in as quickly as fifteen minutes.”

“Really?” asked Adam, what felt like hope blossoming in his chest. The thought that Michael, so indomitable and eternal, could really just be a man…

It was a terrifying thought, but no more than a genuine archangel.

“Yes. The effects of sensory deprivation as a form of torture is well-documented,” said Reid. “It’s called white torture, colloquially.”

“Who would have the knowledge to implement that kind of torture?” asked his uncle.

“Military would be my first guess,” mused Reid. “Adam, have you remembered anything about what your captors might have looked like?”

Michael and Lucifer didn’t have their own faces; Lucifer had resembled Sam for a time, but possessing him lacked purpose in the Cage. And when Michael hadn’t been possessing Adam, he had been in his full angelic form, and who knew what that actually was.

Lacking the words to articulate this, Adam shook his head. Reid smiled anyway.

“Okay, that’s fine. You said earlier that when you escaped, you killed your captors, Michael and Lucifer?” His voice tilted for confirmation, but Adam doubted they would forget that. Uncle Aaron’s mind was like a steel trap when it came to shit like that. Adam nodded. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I killed them,” said Adam and quite suddenly, he wanted to cry.

“How did you kill them?” asked Reid softly. His uncle’s face behind him became too difficult to look at, so Adam turned his gaze away.

Hating himself, he said, voice breaking, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. That’s okay, Adam. Why don’t we take a break? Hotch, could you get him some water?” His uncle quietly departed the room and as surely as if he took a dam with him, Adam broke down.

Tissues were shoved in front of his face, and Adam took them with relief. After several minutes of blowing his nose and wiping his eyes, he relaxed back into a sitting position on his bed.

A paper cup of water was on the nightstand. Adam picked it up and downed it.

“Let’s talk about something else,” said Reid. “What can you tell me about the Winchesters?”

“Didn’t we talk about them already?” asked Adam.

“Well, you mentioned before that Sam escaped pretty early on. Do you know how he did that?”

Adam shook his head. “No. He was there and then he was gone.”

“But you’re sure it was Sam Winchester?” asked Reid.

“Yeah? Why… you said you didn’t think I was crazy,” accused Adam, feeling like the emotional equivalent of a punching bag.

“You’re not crazy,” stated Reid. “But you said it was so dark you never saw your captors’ faces. I want to know why you’re sure Sam was there as a prisoner with you, and not as your captor.”

Oh. That made sense.

He _was_ sure that Sam had been there with him, right? Previously he’d been so certain, but can he even trust his own memories? His own mind?

Sam’s face was clear in his memories, for when it appeared at all. He remembered Sam holding him, trying to reassure and comfort him. Not that he had sounded like he believed it himself, but he had tried to make it better while they were stuck together in the endless storm of the archangels. Sam had told him stories of their father and Dean; mostly of Dean, of how great a brother he was. Adam had told him stories about his mom in return. They had both liked talking about school, even though Sam’s chance to be a lawyer had long passed.

And then, one day, Sam had been gone. None of them had known what had happened.

He would have felt lonely and abandoned, but Lucifer’s wrath filled the entire Cage, even Adam.

“Yes,” trying to sound completely certain. He also remembered falling into the seemingly endless pit that sealed them in the Cage, but that couldn’t be right. If he couldn't trust his memories, what was even the point of this questioning? “Sam was there. He was also a prisoner. I don’t… I don’t know how he escaped. He was there and then he was gone.”

“Could Lucifer or Michael have done anything to him?” asked Reid.

Adam shook his head before he finished. “No. Michael didn’t care enough about Sam to try to hurt him, and Lucifer was _pissed_ when Sam disappeared.”

Reid tapped the armrest of the chair he was in. “What do you mean, Michael didn’t care enough about Sam to try to hurt him?”

How to explain? “Sam was Lucifer’s,” Adam said slowly. “I was Michael’s. They fought a lot, but… bringing us into it was more trouble than it was worth for either of them.”

“Are you saying that only Michael hurt you?” asked Reid, speaking quickly. Adam noticed he had shifted to the edge of his seat, sitting straight up. His eyes trailed to Aaron behind him, who was staring at him with such anger and intensity, but the second their gaze met, his uncle looked away. “Touched you?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he said, feeling queasy. “Lucifer… he… after Sam left, Lucifer only had me and Michael, and--he entered me too, at some point. They both did.”

Aaron walked out of the room so abruptly that Adam jumped. “Uncle Aaron?” he called out.

His uncle stopped in the doorway. He turned around. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to still be around for this part. I can stay if you’d like.”

“Oh.” Adam licked his dry, chapped lips. He took a sip of water. “Yeah. Please?”

Aaron smiled. It was small and tight. “Of course.” He came back into the room. It didn’t quite make the silence in Adam’s head any less painful, but it was something.

During the exchange, Reid had focused exclusively on Aaron. He watched him come back into the room for a moment, before facing Adam again. “Before Sam got out, did he say anything to you?”

“Yeah, he said a lot of things,” said Adam.

“Like what?”

“Uh--that he’d protect me. That everything would be alright.” Adam shrugged. “He was lying, but he tried.”

Reid’s mouth made a small ‘o’ shape. “Why did he do that?”

“I don’t know,” Adam muttered. “Some… misguided attempt at playing an older brother.”

“That’s… specific,” said Reid. “Why would you say that?”

And, thinking nothing of it, Adam said, “Because I’m his brother.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's family talks about Adam's other family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy valentine's day!
> 
> edit: oof, i forgot to reply to comments from the last chapter. i will do that later when i have time!
> 
> edit2: all of the information about Minnesota in this chapter is completely accurate! nothing else is tho

At first, Aaron assumed he had misunderstood. 

Reid did, too. He asked, “Sam Winchester told you that he’s your brother?” 

Adam bobbed his head in the affirmative. Aaron’s mind raced, wondering for what reason Sam Winchester had to view Adam in a brotherly fashion. Or rather, what did Winchester gain by having Adam believe that Sam views him in a brotherly fashion? 

“Can you tell me what he said?” asked Reid, much more calmly than Aaron could have. 

His nephew’s brow scrunched up, his eyes flickering between Reid and Aaron. “What he said?” 

“What did he say when he told you that he’s your brother,” explained Reid. “What was the conversation like?” 

Adam’s mouth opened slightly. The source of his confusion was unknown. “Oh,” said Adam, straightening his spine a touch. “No, I already knew he was my brother when I met him. He wasn’t the one to tell me.” 

“You believe he’s your brother?” asked Aaron at the same time as Reid asked, “Then who told you?” 

Adam’s eyes fixed on Aaron. He should have kept quiet and let Reid take lead. All Aaron’s managed to do was piss his nephew off. “He _is_ my brother.” 

“Adam, it’s understandable to develop an emotional attachment to people in times of trauma,” Reid placated. Adam, displeased, took a moment before he turned his attention away from Aaron. “That doesn’t make Sam your brother.” 

“No--that’s not--that’s not what I mean,” said Adam. His hands pulled the covers of the hospital bed closer to his chest, back hunching over. All clear signs of distress and frustration. He saw realization slide onto Reid’s face, the man clearly piecing together what Adam did mean faster than Aaron. 

“What do you mean, Adam?” asked Reid. He definitely already knew. Aaron wouldn’t like it either, judging by how carefully Reid avoided looking at him. 

“Sam’s my half brother,” said Adam, “so’s Dean. John Winchester is my father.” 

“No,” Aaron said, surprising himself. “That’s not possible.” 

“I’m not lying,” Adam insisted, hands fidgeting. His increased levels of agitation are a poor sign. Hotch should disengage and allow Reid to take over. “They’re my brothers.” 

“Did your mom tell you that John Winchester was your father?” Reid interjected, before Aaron could say anything. He shot Aaron a warning glance, which did nothing to soothe his nerves. 

“Yeah,” said Adam, winding himself down. “He visited like once a year.” 

“John Winchester was a wanted serial killer,” said Aaron. “Kate wouldn’t have been stupid enough to hide that she had been in contact with a known murderer!” 

“Don’t call my mom stupid!” yelled Adam. 

“Hotch!” said Reid, standing up. “You either need to stop or you need to leave.” 

Without a word, Aaron walked out, passing by Morgan standing guard by the door. The more detached part of his mind told him that he dramatically pulled back their progress with Adam, as well as damaged his relationship with his own nephew. 

They both seemed so unimportant to the fog of betrayal in his head. 

“Hotch! _Hotch!_ Where are you going?” shouted Morgan after him. Aaron came to a stop, and let Morgan grab him by the upper arm and pull him to an empty room for privacy. “What the hell happened? Your kid’s upset and Reid’s pissed off. I’ve never even _seen_ boy genius mad. I didn’t know that was possible.” Morgan gave him a charming grin; in any other situation, Aaron would have returned it. 

“Adam said that his father is John Winchester,” he told him quietly. The smile dropped off of Morgan’s face, replaced by grim understanding. “He said that Kate had been in contact with him, and John even visited a few times.” Aaron breathed in to calm himself down. “My sister-in-law was in contact with a serial killer, and I never knew.” 

“Shit, Hotch,” whispered Morgan. 

“What else didn’t I know, Morgan?” If he missed that, what else did he miss? 

“Hey, now, none of that,” Morgan said. “You’re a brilliant profiler, Hotch. One of the best. And we’ve all got our blind spots. We know better than others how often family falls into that.” 

“I missed it,” said Aaron, “and Kate died a horrific death, and Adam was held captive for _three years._ A blind spot--this kind of blind spot is unforgivable, Morgan.” 

“No, it’s not,” said Morgan firmly. “Kate was a grown woman, and she made her own decisions. It’s our job to figure out why she kept a secret like that and to pick up the pieces. Which we’re going to do, alright? Adam’s safe and whole, and he’s going to be okay, Hotch.” 

That was exactly what Morgan was supposed to say, in order to keep the family of the abducted individual calm and possible to work with. Morgan would have said the same even if he, personally, believed Hotch had made a mistake that led to the disastrous events that had occurred. The realization of such washes over him, cold shame of being in this position at all and needing Morgan to talk him down in such a way deflating his anger and betrayal. 

Aaron knew it could happen, of course. Being in this position. His job frankly made it more likely that he would end up on this side, not less. He knew it could easily happen to him when it was he calming Morgan down when they had to uncover the truth of Carl Buford. It didn’t make the role reversal less distasteful. 

But it was his team. Aaron could trust his team. He knew when he called them in on this case that he would have to swallow his pride. And he would, for his family. 

“I believe Adam may be showing some signs of Stockholm Syndrome,” Aaron said. 

Morgan’s brows raised. “What makes you think that?” 

“When Reid asked about how he killed his captors, it struck me that Adam seemed to grieving,” explained Aaron. “I might be wrong. I hope I’m wrong. But it’s worth considering.” 

“I’ve never heard of anyone with Stockholm Syndrome killing their captors,” said Morgan. 

“Then we’re missing something. Obviously, there’s a lot we don’t know. But I suspect Adam was more attached to his captors than he’s letting on.” 

Morgan took a deep breath. “Yeah, we’ll have to check that out. If that’s so, it raises even more questions.” He sighed. “As if there aren’t enough about this case already.” 

Aaron nodded. “I need to go apologize.” Morgan clapped him on the shoulder companionably, and they made their way back together to Adam’s room. Before reaching the room, they hear the din of a TV show; Aaron barely watched any shows so he didn’t recognize it. Even if he had the time, he wouldn’t watch anything that sounds so loud and obnoxious. 

Reid spotted them out of the door and got up to meet them. “He said it was too quiet in his head,” he explains. They all exchange a look at that particular wording. 

Aaron walked forward to take the remote off of the little nightstand and turn the TV off. Adam exuded petulant and sullen anger, eyes marking his progress but resolutely ignoring him. 

“Adam,” said Aaron, and for the second time that day, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been dealing with this well.” 

Adam paused, but clearly wanted to say something. Aaron waited. “My mom didn’t deserve what happened to her,” he said. 

“Of course not. I never wanted to imply that. I was--” _Choose your words carefully_ , he reminded himself, “--distressed to learn that Kate kept something so important a secret all this time.” 

“It wasn’t John who killed her,” Adam said, which was one of the most concrete pieces of information they’ve gotten. “It was--we were attacked by the children of someone he killed. They wanted revenge, and since they couldn’t get him--” Adam’s voice broke. Swallowing and blinking rapidly, he continued, “They settled for us.” 

Aaron settled on the chair to grasp Adam’s hand in his and squeeze them, hoping reassurance and comfort came through clearly. 

“Do you know where John Winchester is?” asked Morgan, from behind them. He took the other chair by the bed, and a quick glance over his shoulder informed him that Reid lingered by the door. 

He swore his heart nearly stopped when Adam nodded, but he said, “He’s dead. He died two years ago. No,” he corrected. “Five or six years ago.” 

“Really? How did he die?” asked Morgan. Adam likely didn’t notice, but he hadn’t expected Adam to have an answer to that question. 

“Sam said he sold his soul to a demon,” said Adam, gripping Aaron’s hand tight. His nails, still stained by dirt despite the showers he’d had since his arrival, dig into his skin. “In exchange for Dean’s life. Sam said it was the only right thing he’d done since their mother died.” 

“I see,” said Morgan. His eyes met Aaron’s which warned him for the next question. “When did your mom get in touch with John?” 

“Uh, she didn’t. Detective Barton told him.” His grip loosened as he receded into his thoughts. “When I was eleven. Joe and Mom were friends, and I think she told him who my dad was, or he figured it out, and Mom didn’t know he had John’s phone number.” Adam’s eyes grow distant. “He showed up with flowers for Mom and a baseball bat for me.” 

“Baseball bat?” queried Morgan. “Do you like baseball?” 

“No.” 

Morgan frowned. “Then why did he bring you a baseball bat?” 

Adam shrugged. “I think that’s what he liked as a kid.” Talking about his father came easily to Adam--regardless of the secrecy Kate had taken, Adam did not seem to be that attached to the man. He appeared attached to Sam, which was worrisome, but this was a small relief. “We didn't have much in common.” 

“Did you know who he was at that time?” asked Morgan. 

“I mean, yeah?” Adam’s head tilted in confusion at Morgan. “She told me that he was my dad.” 

Morgan grimaced and didn't quite disguise it as a smile. “So you didn’t know he was on the FBI’s Most Wanted list?” 

Judging by Adam’s expression, no, he had not. “No, of course I--what was he wanted for?” 

“Serial murder, among other crimes,” answered Morgan. “Adam, do you realize that Dean and Sam Winchester are also both on the FBI’s Most Wanted list?” 

Adam pulled his hand away from Aaron. He squirmed. “I--I didn’t, no.” 

Morgan leveled a steady gaze on him. “Adam, if you know anything about where either of them might be, you need to tell us. For your own safety.” 

Adam shook his head frantically. “I really don’t know where they are. I don’t.” Earnestness shone through Adam’s face. Aaron let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding up in his chest. “I… my dad and my brothers are all serial killers?” he asked uneasily. 

“Adam,” began Aaron. “John Winchester raised Dean and Sam into his delusions of the supernatural. The odds were stacked against them from the start.” 

How family reacted to the discovery that a loved one was a serial killer was not unlike experiencing their death. Aaron had watched countless people process the information through the five stages of grief, waiting to see which they landed on to formulate his strategy to persuade the family to cooperate with the investigation. 

Accepting that a loved one was a serial killer was a difficult pill to swallow. Not only was the person they thought they knew gone and never was in the first place, but the crimes of the killer would follow the family for their entire lives. 

Adam spun on the grief roulette, settling in denial, of all places. 

“Sam was nice to me though,” protested Adam. “He was…” He struggled to find a word to adequately describe how Sam Winchester treated him in their acquaintance. Adam seemed to settle on repeating, “... nice." 

“It’s good to hear that,” said Morgan. “We’re glad you had someone there for you, at least for a little while.” Adam bit his bottom lip, focusing on his knees. “The Winchesters have always placed a lot of value on family. It makes sense that they would look out for you in a situation like that, if you’re their brother.” 

“Dean tried to save me,” Adam said. “When Michael took me. He tried to save me.” 

Dean and Sam Winchester would do anything for each other. Of the few, consistent facts regarding the Winchesters, that much is clear. Aaron exchanged a look with Reid, who slipped out of the room to coordinate with JJ what they’d need to do to keep Adam and their family safe from the Winchesters. Adam’s miraculous return had already been reported by local and regional news. At this rate, it may even make it to national. JJ should already be keeping Adam’s remaining family connections under wraps, however, so as to ensure Adam can come back to DC with Aaron and live with them safely. 

The Winchesters were tenacious. They had to proceed with all caution. 

Even that might not be enough. But they had to try. 

His phone rang. Hotch pulled it out of his pocket and answered once he saw it was Haley. 

“Haley,” he murmured at the same time Haley said, “How’s Adam? Is he there?” 

“Yes, he’s right here with me,” he said. “Would you like to talk to him?” 

“Yes, I would. And also,” said Haley, “my dad is on his way there, to see Adam. Just so you know.” 

“Does he need a ride from the airport?” asked Aaron. If he couldn’t go himself, one of his team would. “Have you been doing alright on your own? How has your back been?” 

“No, he’s going to rent a car,” said Haley. “And I’m fine, Jessica came over to stay with me. She wants to speak to Adam, too.” 

“I’m handing over the phone now,” said Aaron. He passed his phone over to Adam, who handled it awkwardly, grip not settling naturally over the shape of it. Adam had missed much in the development of technology. He might not have held a phone in the entire time of his captivity, either. 

“Aunt Haley?” asked Adam, soft and uncertain. He listened for a few moments, then swallowed hard as tears leaked out of his eyes. “I missed you, too,” he said, voice breaking. 

Morgan’s hand gave Aaron’s shoulder a brief squeeze, in both comfort to to alert him that he and Reid were leaving to give them some privacy. 

Aaron appreciated it. Some things didn’t need witnesses. 

… 

According to the US Census records, the town of Windom, Minnesota had a population of 4,640, approximately shrinking from the previous year by -.09%. Though small, it qualified as a city. The core of the settlers’ development was conducted early 20th century, based on the type of architecture found throughout the city. 

“Did you know this city was named after William Windom, who was a Minnesotan Senator at the time?” Reid stated more than asked, as framing a fact in a question was less likely to incite anger. Gideon quirked an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t respond, and Morgan turned away from watching the cars passing by the hospital to stare at him behind his sunglasses. Or, presumably he was staring at Reid. He was unable to see his eyes under the sunglasses, but the turning of the head was a good indication that he had Morgan’s attention. Reid kept going. “He tried to run for President, and was even considered by the rest of the Republican party as a sort of Dark Horse candidate when they had reached a standstill for nominees. They instead chose James A. Garfield, who went on to win the Presidential election of 1881.” 

“Huh,” said Morgan. His gaze slid away from Reid. “Any sign of them yet?” 

“Traffic patterns on the I-94 East at this time tends to cause delays,” Reid chimed in. 

“So they’re probably just running late after their flight,” said Gideon, tilting his head as he continued to gaze at the road. “Are they all coming together? Or separately?” 

“I would assume that Dr. Olsen is coming on her own,” said Reid. “As for the rest of his friends, the wording was unclear. With the exception of Harper Lewis and Lani Kamaka, who currently live in Los Angeles, Adam’s friends either reside in Windom or Madison, Wisconsin.” 

“We know if they’re all still friends?” asked Morgan. “College friendships can last a lifetime, but life shakes up a lot of things.” 

“None of them indicated as much,” said Gideon. “But their priority was clearly Adam.” 

“If, like Adam, his friends do not conform to heteronormative or gender-conforming standards, it seems unlikely that they would have a dearth of options for friendships with likeminded people,” said Reid. At Gideon’s look, he explained, “If they’re bisexual or gay.” And there was a higher than usual likelihood that they were. Reid knew from personal experience that queer people tended to cluster together. “While Madison, Wisconsin is purportedly LGBT-friendly, Wisconsin is still the Midwest.” 

“Ah,” said Gideon. “Members of the LGBT community might be hesitant to speak with us.” 

“For good reason,” said Morgan. 

“Hotch’s report from the initial investigation noted that Adam’s friends were recalcitrant towards their team,” said Reid, mentally turning the aforementioned report’s pages to review the information. “Adam’s boyfriend, Darin, was the most forthcoming which Hotch ascribed to his concern for Adam’s well-being, even though his close relationship to Adam and Kate cast him as a likely suspect for the beginning of the investigation. His assistance ceased when his family got involved. His mother is a lawyer, and she didn’t want her son involved in the investigation.” 

“And his presence at the university was confirmed through many classes and eyewitnesses,” mused Gideon. “So he was ruled out as a suspect fairly quickly.” 

“As were all of Adam’s friends. Their presence on campus was confirmed on the days Kate and Adam went missing,” said Reid. “And Hotch was in Florida with the BAU. Both days.” 

“And Haley?” asked Gideon. 

Reid and Morgan stared at Gideon. His face remained stoic. “Haley was a full-time social worker at the time,” said Reid. He took a breath, “The alibis for Jessica Brooks and Roy Brooks also checked out.” 

“The Winchesters are still our most likely suspects,” said Morgan, frowning, head tilted towards the ground. “But just because they’re the most likely, doesn’t mean any of it fits. It doesn’t match the consistent parts of Adam’s story, which is that they tried to save him. It doesn’t sound like they hurt him at all, either. Or even tried to.” 

“It doesn’t fit,” agreed Gideon. 

“This case is weird,” said Morgan. “I don’t like it.” 

Reid cleared his throat. “I don’t either. We should know more than we do at this point, and we don’t.” 

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable even giving out a profile, at this rate,” said Gideon. Reid was mildly surprised. Gideon was not one for grousing. “JJ needs to keep the media under control. It would be a disaster if this made regional news. Or worse, national. For both us and Adam.” 

If the news goes national, Adam would have to go into Witness Protection as the Winchesters pose too great a threat to allow him live somewhere so obvious as with family. 

“JJ will keep media to a minimum,” said Reid, trying to keep his admiration out of his voice. 

“That look like them?” said Morgan, thankfully preventing Reid from saying any more on the topic of JJ. Keeping secrets from a team of profilers was virtually impossible; the kindest any of them can do was to stoutly ignore pesky little embarrassments like intra-team crushes. 

A couple of young men, one Latino and one Black, were rushing out of a taxi; rushing so fast, in fact, that the Latino male dropped his backpack, which wasn’t zipped. Clothes and toiletries bursted out like they’ve never tasted such sweet freedom. 

The other man turned around to help his friend. It had been a few years, but the two did appear to be Darin Sharpe and Matthew Torres. 

“Mr. Sharpe and Mr. Torres,” Morgan called out, walking over to them. Both of the men looked up quickly. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan. You spoke to my coworker on the phone.” 

“Y-Yeah, I did. Talk to her, that is. Nice to meet you,” said the Black man as he shoved his hand out for Morgan to shake. “I can’t believe--Adam’s really alive?” 

“He is, and you’ll be able to go see him soon, Mr. Sharpe,” said Morgan. Darin Sharpe shifted around uncomfortably under the weight of his backpack. His thick, black rimmed glasses slide down his nose, and he pulled them off his face to wipe them clean on his shirt. “I was hoping you’d be willing to answer a few questions.” 

Sharpe shook his head. “Agent Jareau said I wasn’t coming here for an interrogation. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait for my lawyer to arrive, because I’m not answering anything. Now where’s Adam?” 

Morgan backed down. Neither Sharpe nor Torres were prominent suspects in the case, and it was improbable that they would provide any new information. “Come with me.” 

“How is he?” asked Sharpe, fidgeting with his shirt collar. Both he and Torres radiated a concerned anxiety, and Reid would bet his life savings that they were genuinely worried about Adam. Reid exchanged a glance with Gideon, whose relaxed posture assured him that his assessment was accurate. 

“Doing pretty well, considering,” said Morgan. “I think it’ll help him too see his friends. It’s good of you to come.” 

“Yeah, of course…” said Sharpe, trailing off. 

“And Mr. Torres, were you also friends with Adam back in college?” asked Morgan conversationally. 

Torres shrugged, mumbled, “Yeah,” and didn’t elaborate. Like his friend, he was not enthused about speaking to law enforcement. 

Reid understood and approved. Despite the oddities the case presented, Sharpe and Torres appeared to be concerned for Adam’s welfare. And speaking frankly to law enforcement were not advisable actions for Latino and black people, statistically speaking. They were acting wisely. 

They arrived at Adam’s room to see Elle quietly speaking to Adam. Hotch was not present; his father-in-law’s flight was due to land soon. But he was intending to rent a car, so where was Hotch? 

“Oh my god,” said Sharpe. Adam’s head snapped over to him, mouth open in shock. “ _Adam!_ ” 

“Darin,” Adam choked out. He leaned towards him as Sharpe crossed the room. He hesitated when he reached him, but Adam pulled him into an embrace. Reid could no longer see either of their faces, but the sound of sobbing was unmistakable. 

Reid averted his gaze, to provide them a modicum of privacy. Whatever privacy that they were afforded was only an illusion; Gideon would be watching carefully, and Elle’s position gave her full view of both of their faces. 

Meanwhile, Reid chose to keep an eye on Torres who also seemed to be an inch away from crying. Reid’s eyes follow Torres as he migrated over to his friends’ and was absorbed into the hug. 

“Holy shit, Adam,” said Darin, “what happened to you?” 

“Darin--” Reid could hear Adam say. His breath came in gasps; he was going to burst into tears soon. “Darin, I’m so sorry.” 

Tears were contagious. Sharpe, it seemed, was also beginning to cry. “I’m sorry, too--” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Adam cried harder, “I love you, I’m sorry--” 

“I love you too--” 

The noise rose into a cacophony of wails and sobs and became utterly indecipherable, and worse, discomforting. Reid shifted, wishing he could make an escape, but he appeared to be the only one affected by the high level of noise and heightened emotions in the room. 

Reid took a bit of a breath and focused on his job. 

Sharpe and Torres had collapsed on top of the bed with Adam in their attempt to keep a hold of him. Adam was still reclined into the bed, but his arms around Sharpe’s shoulders meant that he rose up along with him. 

Their affective response to Adam was genuine. As Hotch had previously indicated in his reports, neither Sharpe nor Torres had anything to do with Kate’s murder and Adam’s disappearance. 

A relief, certainly, but a dead-end nonetheless. 


End file.
